


there's blood on my tongue

by vellichorthing



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: 1970s, AGAIN: Sad Ending, AND GAY, Alternate Universe - 1970s, Fluff and Smut, Harry Styles - Freeform, Harry is a hippie kinda, Harry is also a political activist, LSD, Louis Tomlinson - Freeform, Louis works in a music shop, M/M, Marijuana, Not Suitable/Safe For Work, Period-Typical Homophobia, Period-Typical Racism, Sad Ending, Sex Drugs and Rock and Roll, also idk how to write about lsd/acid sooo, also sorry it’s sad, also the 70’s !!!, i am sad, it's brief tho - Freeform, mentions of cocaine usage, plot moves quickly, so i wrote a sad gay fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-10
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:55:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 27,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25178023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vellichorthing/pseuds/vellichorthing
Summary: It's not legal in court, sure, but who needs a court's approval when you've got God shining down on you?. . .rock n roll, drugs, 70s.flower power, surfing, sex.love and broken hearts.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 23
Kudos: 46





	1. one

**Author's Note:**

> hello! this fic is going to be a bumpy ride, so get ready.  
> this one will definitely be a bit on the short side, and will also have a sad ending. don't worry, no one dies.  
> i hope you all enjoy it as much as i enjoyed writing it :)  
> all my love, az  
> twitter: TONGUETIED91 & vellichorthing  
> tumblr: vellichorthing
> 
> song: a horse with no name by america, george martin

June 1976

Squeaks from the flat wheels of the 1971 classic red Volkswagen van while the vehicle moved back and forth at a steady pace. There was no use in trying to stay quiet; the vigorous shaking of the van against Harry’s back and the loud moans from inside said it all.

Droplets of sweat dripped down his forehead, moving slowly past his hazy green eyes and down to his chin; and it wasn’t from the summer heat. He was staring at his hands, watching as they moved with his quickened heart rate. His lips were dry and parted as he focused on them, his eyes slowly squinting in confusion.

“My hands are beating?” he questioned, not expecting an answer back. Johnny glanced over at him.

“Beating what?”

“Huh?” Harry turned his head towards Johnny, who was standing over Harry as if he were a Catholic school girl who got in trouble by one of the nuns. Harry doesn’t know how Catholic school works, but he assumed Johnny’s face was the one an angry nun would make. Nevertheless, the face made him paranoid.

“Are you mad at me?” Harry asked, feeling a lump form in his throat. “Jesus,” he thought to himself, “why do I feel like crying?”

Johnny busted out a laugh, one that was squeaky and humorous to Harry. Harry laughed quietly with him; a bit confused, to say the least.

“You are trippin’ balls, gringo,” Johnny continued to laugh while holding his stomach. That was something he did as a habit; held his stomach when he laughed. It reminded Harry of when girls covered their mouths when they laughed, which he found cute. His ex-girlfriend Red used to do it constantly, claiming her teeth were “all kinds of messed up”, but Harry had disagreed.

He started to think of Red and where she was now. He was almost 96% certain that she wasn’t sitting against a van while two people fucked without a care in the world inside of it. Red wasn’t like that; she was articulate and hated sex. Or maybe she just hated sex with Harry. Either way, Harry had called her a prude after they had broken up their last year of college, and since then, has regretted it immensely.

“I shouldn’t have called her a prude, Johnny,” Harry sighed, attempting to lean his head back against the van as it bonked him several times, “She was a nice girl.”

“Who the fuck are you talking about?” Johnny asked, his accent becoming thick. Harry shrugged, his mind immediately going blank as he tried to answer the question.

“Uh… umm …”

“Forget it,” Johnny grinned as he clapped Harry’s shoulder, “You just enjoy your trip now.”

“Trip? Where are we going?” Harry became curious, his mind racing about where they were headed next this summer. They had already traveled across the coast of New Jersey, and found themselves in New York City, where his parents happened to live in one of those multi-million apartments that they advertised in the magazines Harry would read every so often.

Johnny laughed once more, shaking his head back and forth. As he laughed, Harry watched in awe as Johnny’s head blew up like a balloon. Afraid he might pop, Harry quickly pressed both hands on either side of Johnny’s face, and watched as his head deflated back to normal. Harry let out a “whew” as he wiped more sweat off his forehead. Johnny only gave him a weird look, a smile creeping up on his face in a devilish way. Harry’s heartbeat quickened at the sight.

“Acid does a number on you, apparently,” Johnny concluded, smacking Harry’s shoulder before getting back up, “I’m heading out.”

“Where to?”

“Miranda’s.”

“Again? I thought you guys broke up,” Harry was sure they had broken up at least 3 times throughout the summer, and it was only June, “Wait, doesn’t she live in California?”

“Yeah, I’m moving in. We’re gonna make things right. I’m gonna marry her one day, you’ll see,” Johnny bared his teeth in a huge grin as he grabbed a stuffed suitcase, “I’ll come back and visit soon, I promise.”

“Oh … okay,” Harry saddened as he watched his best friend walk off in stride. He wondered if he had already been told that before his acid trip started. He couldn’t remember. Stupid acid.

The rocking of the shiny van came to a halt. Harry watched as a girl flew open the door, stepping outside. She was wearing floral wide-legged pants and nothing on top. Some of her mullet haircut was strewn across her face. He could see her bright blue eyes were dilated from where he was sitting 4 feet away. She smelled like sweat and sex.

“Wanna join us?” she reached her hand out, “You can just watch if you want.”

Harry looked back over to where Johnny had been walking away, then back at the girl. He shrugged, standing himself up and followed her back into the van.

…

“So, like, what do you do?” Harry asked as the girl positioned herself on top of Harry. The man sitting in the corner of the van on the dusty floor lit up his cigarette, seemingly bored.

“Oh, I don’t know. Sometimes I go to Central Park and feed the birds a bit of weed,” she thought aloud as she started to bounce, “I usually just fuck other guys in front of my boyfriend, like right now. What do you do?”

“Not this, usually,” Harry stared at the ceiling, slightly spreading his legs, “I work as a political activist.”

“Political?” the man in the corner looked up, taking a drag from his cigarette before he spoke again, “You apart of those fag marches?”

The word “fag” stung in Harry’s ears, “Yes, sometimes. I go to lots of different protests. Women’s marches, civil rights movements…”

The girl seemed frustrated by Harry’s lack of interest in their current activity. She brushed her hair out of her face, moving her hips more vigorously to attempt to get a reaction from Harry. It didn’t work.

“So, you burn bras and shit?” the man asked, boredom present in his voice. Harry shrugged.

“I did once, but then I learned no one actually does that. Embarrassing day for me.”

“I bet,” the man chuckled, “I find those marches to be pointless.”

Harry cocked his head towards the man, disbelief in his eyes. His acid trip was surely over at this point.

“What? First of all, protesting shows that people aren’t alone in their fight for equal treatment, or for their ideals on what society should be like. When you feel alone, it feels like the whole world is eating you up. Having at least one other person there in the fight against tyranny and hatred is a wonderful thing,” Harry started, the girl above him placing her hands against his chest as she attempted to get Harry interested once again. It didn’t work.

“Secondly, we can alter the agenda that has been put upon us and start a debate, which is important when it comes to the change we wish to see. When the 14th amendment was ratified in 1866, Congress had no idea just how powerful we would become as a nation; one that stands up for the right for women to vote, for the right of African Americans to live as every white man does, for—”

“Man, you’re losing me,” the man waved Harry off mid-sentence, seemingly bored of the conversation.

“Excuse me, just a moment,” Harry grabbed the girl by the waist mid-bounce and set her aside, her face contorted into an annoyed look. Harry smiled shyly before sitting up and looking back at the man, “What I’m trying to say is that without protests, we wouldn’t live in the world we do now. Progression wouldn’t occur. Our representatives in D.C. work for the people, meaning, we have to be the ones to demand action.”

“Nixon didn’t work for the people, none of those bastards care,” the man retorted. Harry shook his head, a smile on his face.

“Maybe he didn’t care, but he’s the exception,” Harry got up, putting back on his boxer briefs as he spoke, “Tell you what—there’s going to be a gay pride parade two weekends from now at Stonewall Inn. Come with me and some friends, and I’ll prove to you why marching and protests are important.”

The man looked at Harry, contemplating his request. Harry continued to smile at him as he buckled his bell bottoms and strapped his belt together.

“Fine, Harry. I’ll come. I’m not gay though.”

“You don’t have to be. I go to environmental rallies, but I’m not a tree. I just love the earth,” Harry stated. The girl beside him huffed, clearly agitated by the turn of events.

“And I love riding dick, can we get back to that?”

“Oh, Sherrie,” the man sighed, “We’ve been at this for an hour now.”

“That may be too long for you, but for me …” Sherrie crawled over to Harry, rising on her knees to play with his hair, “I was just getting started.”

Harry politely moved her hands away from his hair, “Thank you, but no. I’m gonna head to the music shop on Ocean City boardwalk. Heard they’ve got some good prices on newer vinyl. What’s your name, man?”

“Caden,” Caden stood from his spot, shaking Harry’s hand, “You’re kind of a weirdo, but you’re cool.”

“Thanks,” Harry laughed, “I’ll see you two later.”

Harry threw on his skinny purple scarf before heading out the door. Sherrie stared at Caden in anger.

“What?”

“I can’t believe you,” she snarled, “Why do you have to ruin everything?”


	2. two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> song: listen to the music by the doobie brothers

Outside the music shop, the boardwalk was filled with the smell of wealth and tourists spending their summer the way they intended; drunk on the daily and letting their children run rampant.

Inside the Fitz Beats music shop, a small number of regulars shopped for the latest vinyl. With a recently released collection of 50’s classics, the majority were crowded around the file of The Everly Brothers and The Crows, selecting their next collection piece.

At the front counter stood Louis and Ralph, the only attendants of the store. Since Louis’ shift was about over and his replacement was coming soon, he decided it would be a good time to smoke a drag. He pulled the ash tray from underneath the counter as Ralph helped a girl out at the cash register.

“Find everything okay?” he asked, his customer service voice kind and calm. The girl nodded, smiling brightly as she looked at her new Beatles “Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band” vinyl.

Louis inhaled deeply after lighting the cigarette with ease, eyeing the vinyl as Ralph bagged it.

“That’ll be 7 dollars and 45 cents,” Ralph said as the girl pulled out her purse, ready to pay. After the sale, Ralph turned to Louis.

“I don’t understand the obsession,” Ralph sighed, rubbing his temples, “Paul McCartney looks like a fish.”

Louis laughed, “That’s not why girls like them, ya know. Music is more than an artist’s face.”

“Okay, yeah,” Ralph nodded, lighting his own cigarette, “but I swear some girls cream themselves over them.”

Louis’ face turned into disgust, “Ralph, man, that’s sick.”

“What! It’s true,” Ralph cackled, his eyes light, “That album isn’t that good anyway. Abbey Road is where it’s at.”

“I’d have to agree,” Louis tapped his cigarette in the ash tray, releasing the bud of ash on the end of the stick, “but you can’t say they’re ugly. Clearly, many would disagree.”

“But you didn’t,” Ralph pushed on Louis’ shoulder joking, “You into them?”

“Not like that, no,” Louis answered seriously, “I like their music though. They’ve got some tunes.”

The bell rang as a new customer entered the shop, immediately turning toward the selection of cassette tapes.

“I guess,” Ralph switched the topic, “You going to Jenna’s birthday bash? She’s turning 18, so we’re going to the bar after to celebrate.”

“Would rather not, her sister isn’t a fan of me,” Louis shrugged, “Why are you hanging out with children?”

“18 isn’t that young,” Ralph stated, “Besides, she’s more of Jean’s friend. Jean is making me go, to drive her and the girls around. You should come so I’m not completely bored.”

“I’d rather not associate with a group of girls 10 years younger than me, thanks,” Louis finished his cigarettes, smushing it in the ash tray and pushing it towards Ralph, “Have fun.”

“But you love Jean!”

“Because she’s your little sister,” Louis claimed. Ralph gave him a look.

“You don’t mean that.”

“You’re right, I don’t,” Louis laughed once more, taking a sip of water from his bottle, “I just wanna have a free night tonight.”

“You have a free night every night, man,” Ralph tapped his cigarette on the edge of the ash tray, “Live a little.”

“I’ve already lived. I’m almost thirty, it’s time for me to settle.”

“With who? Your mom in her basement?” Ralph cackled, an annoyed Louis staring at him.

“I really wish you wouldn’t joke about my mom like that,” Louis deadpanned. Ralph became somber, “Just a joke.”

Louis looked up at the store, the only customer in the store the man who walked in moments ago, still standing in front of cassette tapes. The man wore a pretty lavender scarf around his orange flowy top. He had high waisted bell-bottoms on that accentuated his ass well … and he had no shoes on.

Louis rolled his eyes, pushing his floppy hair out of his eyes as he made his way towards the man, ready to tell him off when the man looked at him.

And God, this man was beautiful, more beautiful than any person Louis had ever seen. He felt an ethereal presence float around the man. He had curly brown hair atop his head, and a striking jawline that could cut glass. Louis gulped nervously as he approached the man.

“Hi, sir?” Louis attempted, his voice a little too high. He cleared his throat.

“Hi,” the man turned to Louis, a beautiful smile plastered on his face. The man looked Louis up and down, making Louis feel insecure. Louis thought, “Is he … checking me out?”

“Sorry to bother you, but you have to wear shoes while in store. It’s manager’s policy, not mine,” Louis stated, trying to lighten his heavy heartbeat.

“Oh …” the man seemed confused, looking down at his feet, “I must’ve forgotten them.”

Louis laughed, liking the guy already, “You’re funny. I like that.”

“You do now?” the man grinned once again, placing his hand out, “I’m Harry, by the way.”

“Louis,” Louis shook his hand, entranced by Harry’s charisma, “You know what? Forget the shoes. Boss is outta town anyway. Can I help you find a tape?”

Harry looked back at the selection, picking out “Led Zeppelin III”, “Do you have this on vinyl?”

“I do,” Louis smiled, walking towards the Led Zeppelin section. Harry couldn’t help but stare at Louis’ ass in those “lovely fitting Levi’s”, he thought to himself.

Harry followed Louis, where he had picked out the vinyl. Harry thanked him as he looked at the songs listed on the back.

“’Immigrant Song’ is a classic,” Louis noted, “but personally, I like ‘Tangerine’”

“I only know ‘Immigrant Song’, that’s why I’ve decided to listen to the album,” Harry confessed, “I realize that sounds lame.”

“What? Nonsense, it’s cool you wanna get to know the artist, the band really,” Louis smiled, stepping backwards and picking out Queen’s “A Night At The Opera”, “You like Queen?”

From there, Harry and Louis spent the next twenty minutes comparing bands alike, obsessing over Queen and sharing their distaste for Deep Purple.

“It’s a stupid name for a band, anyway,” Louis shrugged about Deep Purple. Harry laughed, “Not as bad as ZZ Top.”

Louis gasped, “How dare you disrespect Billy Gibbons; the man, the myth, the legend.”

That made Harry cackle, a high but angelic sound. Louis’ heart swelled at the sound.

They walked over to the counter, where Ralph sat at the telephone against the wall, arguing with his sister.

“Jean, all you had to do was pick up eggs from the store. I don’t understand how you ended up trading your bracelet for an ounce of coke.”

Louis scooted past Ralph, his ass rubbing against the glass countertop. Harry licked his dry lips.

They chatted for a bit while Louis typed in the code for the vinyl. It came out to be $6.92. Harry pulled out a wad of cash.

“Damn, you sell drugs or something?” Louis gawked at the cash. Harry laughed as he stuffed the money back in his pocket, handing Louis the amount owed.

“Hey, Louis, right?” Harry asked as Louis nodded, “You should come hang with some of my friends and I tonight. We’re playing some live music, having some beers. It should be fun.”

Ralph eyed Louis knowingly, eavesdropping on the conversation as Jean talked a bit too loudly over the phone. Louis sighed.

“Alright, fine. When and where?”

Harry wrote down his number and the address of where the van was parked and left son after. Louis let out a deep breath, resting his elbows on the counter.

What he was getting himself into, he had no idea.


	3. three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> song: peace of mind by boston

“Oh my fucking god, are they still going at it?” Lindsey Allen groaned, a tightly rolled joint in her left hand. She inhaled deeply, blowing the smoke out in Sabrina’s face.

“Just because you’re in a piss-poor mood doesn’t mean you have to take it out on me,” the sober red-head pouted, “Let them be.”

“I hate that bitch Sherrie,” Lindsey growled, “She fucked Martin with her ugly boyfriend Caden right in front of her! Who does that?”

“Maybe that’s their thing. And besides, didn’t Martin turn out to be queer?”

“Not the point,” Lindsey shooed her away. Sabrina rolled her eyes, muttering, “I’m gonna grab a drink before Harry gets back.”

Lindsey turned on her heel swiftly, “He’s coming back? Fuck Sabrina, why didn’t you say so?”

The bleach-blonde set her joint in the ashtray, careful as to not let it burn out. She pulled down her tight-fitting tank top down, showing a little more cleavage. She made her top into a crop top, showing off her tanned stomach, her low-rise long skirt hanging at her popped-out hips.

“Of course he’s coming back, this is his van after all,” Sabrina deadpanned. Lindsey furrowed her eyebrows at her before looking at herself in the reflection of the van as it shook back and forth. Thankfully, the blinds were shut. She ruffled up her hair a bit before turning back around and grinning, her pearly white teeth blinding.

“You think he likes Asians?” Lindsey asked, checking out her manicured nails.

“I think he likes you just as you are,” Sabrina faked a smile, before mumbling to herself, “When you aren’t high and turn into a complete ass.”

“What?”

The rustling of a plastic bag sounded through the air, interrupting Lindsey and Sabrina’s conversation. Harry approached the two, a bright smile on his face. He seemed in good spirits, as usual.

“Hi Harry,” Lindsey approached Harry, a smirk on her face, “Where’d ya head off to?”

“Fitz Beats,” he answered, pulling out the record he bought, “Got a new one.”

“Ooo, Led Zeppelin! I love them,” Sabrina piped up, handing Harry a beer, “’Immigrant Song’ is where it’s at.”

“I bet that’s the only song you know,” Lindsey spat before turning back to Harry, who was admiring the cover of the vinyl. He held it to his chest endearingly.

“Lindsey, are you high again?” Harry asked nonchalantly, not looking up.

“Yeah, why? Are my eyes red?”

“No, you’re being rude to Sabrina, once again,” Harry looked up, “No, they’re fine. Brown as always.”

Lindsey pouted, touching Harry’s shoulder lightly, “Oh, I would never. She’s my best friend.”

Sabrina rolled her eyes, taking her drink and walking towards the van, “I’m going to nap. Sounds like Sherrie and Caden finished. Is that alright H?”

“Of course,” Harry smiled, “But I’m expecting company soon.”

Harry walked over to the side of the van, sitting down against the sand below him. They had parked on a private beach, away from the music and drunks that usually occupied the beach at this time of night. He checked his watch for the time; 7:36.

“Other than Casey, Amelia and Ari?”

“Yeah, his name is Louis. Met him at the music shop. Real friendly,” Harry took a sip of the bitter beer, making a disgusted face, “This is gross.”

“All beer is!” Sabrina yelled before entering the van, shutting the door behind her. Harry chuckled as he took another sip. Lindsey continued to pout, crouching in front of him. She made sure her cleavage was noticeable. It was.

Harry wasn’t paying attention. Instead, he had his face up toward the sky, his eyes closed with a slight smile on his face. The sun was setting soon, and the last bit of warmth on his face was exactly what he needed. Lindsey cleared her throat.

“Hmm?”

“Do you think I’m mean?” Lindsey asked, sincerity present in her voice.

“No, not particularly,” Harry continued to keep his eyes closed, “But when you smoke you become a bit … intense. Everyone is suddenly against you.”

“I’ll try to be better … for you,” Lindsey dragged her knuckles down Harry’s defined bicep. Harry didn’t take any notice to it, instead still focused on the conversation, “I think it’s the paranoia. That happens when you smoke sometimes.”

“Uh, yeah—”

“Did you know,” Harry opened his eyes, looking at Lindsey, “marijuana lowers your anxiety? And yet, many become highly anxious when they smoke. How weird is that?”

“Wild,” Lindsey deadpanned.

Harry continued to rant about the side effects of marijuana and how it became more popular after John F. Kennedy’s assassination in the 60’s. Lindsey Allen became bored almost immediately and excused herself. She’d have to try and get his attention another day, she supposed.

. . .

Casey, a short blonde-haired guy who was the epitome of a 1960’s hippie, had brought along his girlfriend Amelia, whose dad was a dentist. This information was only known because she never stopped talking about their horror stories of various procedures.

“One time, dad found a colony of spiders during a root canal procedure. They were still living!”

“How interesting,” Harry seemed to be the only one engaged in the conversation. Casey, Ari and Lindsey Allen had zoned out twenty minutes ago.

As Amelia continued with her gross spider story, Harry checked his watch once again; 9:16. He started to feel anxious; he had hoped Louis would show up. He was excited for his friends to meet the guy who had so generously let him wear no shoes in his store.

At this point, the sun had set, and Casey began to start a fire. The waves of the ocean crashed gently onto shore, seagulls floating around, ready to find their next meal. Sherrie was far out, throwing tiny pieces of weed at them.

“C’mon, birdies! This stuffs straight from Mexico!”

In the distance, Harry and the others heard a car drive up. It was a light blue 1968 Volkswagen Bug, with silver lining the windows. It was a beautiful car, to say the least. Lindsey once again became paranoid.

“Who the fuck is that?”

“Louis!” Harry stood up quickly, “Finally.”

Louis parked his car, stepping out of the vehicle as he locked the door. He moved his soft fringe from his face, before stuffing something in his pocket. He was wearing blue jean shorts with a cut up band tee. He wore old school vans on his feet, apparently without socks. He walked up towards the group, hesitant in his stride. It was hard to see all of them since it had gotten a bit darker.

He eventually approached the group, taking everything in; the fire that had started, the stunning red van, but mostly Harry.

Harry had looked the same as he had earlier today, except he wasn’t wearing a shirt. Instead, he had decided to flash his many colorful tattoos, the most prominent one on his upper stomach; a butterfly.

“Hi,” Louis introduced him, “I’m Louis.”

“Casey,” Casey gave Louis a fist bump, “and this is my girlfriend, Amelia.”

“Hi!” Amelia was cheerful in her step as she approached Louis, her Boston accent thick, “Nice to meet ya.”

“I’m Ariana,” a shy but quite tall and skinny girl with a brown leatherhead band on waved. Louis waved back. She wore comfy moccasins with purple lace.

“Hey man! Glad you could make it,” Harry smiled, a warm, lovely smile. Louis’ heart swelled as it did earlier in the day. How could someone be so stunning?

He abruptly pulled Louis into a hug, and wow did this man smell heavenly. Did he have any flaws?

The answer was no. Physically, he did not.

“C’mon, mister seagull! Eat the weed!” Sherrie screamed from far away, startling Louis. Caden was beside her, shaking his head, “I don’t understand your hobbies sometimes.”

Lindsey took a drag from her cigarette, staring Louis up and down. She looked down and checked her cleavage.

“I see you’re a hugger,” Louis chuckled as he pat Harry’s back. Harry released the hug, holding Louis by the shoulders, “You smell great.”

“Harry does that,” Ari smiled, “Loves hugs. It’s his thing.”

Louis smiled to himself as he took a seat next to Harry, against the van. Harry couldn’t help but stare as Louis began to talk, “Thanks for having me.”

“Anyone and everyone is welcome, man,” Casey grinned, “Except for cops.”

“Are you a cop?” Lindsey finally spoke up. Louis laughed, genuinely laughed. Harry felt his heart soar, above the clouds and into the universe.

“No, just work at Fitz Beats on the boardwalk nearby.”

“Hey! That’s Johnny’s name,” Amelia thought aloud, “His dad owns the place.”

“Ah, yeah, Johnny’s a nice guy. Always gives my buddy Ralph and I weed,” Louis reached into his pocket, “Speaking of which … you guys smoke?”

Everyone was silent for a moment, until abrupt laughter filled the night sky. Louis felt embarrassed; his cheeks began to redden. Harry noticed this, so he gave Louis a friendly tap on his bent knee.

“Everyone here does except Ari and Amelia. Amelia—”

“Dad says it’s bad for you. Gives you seizures and stuff,” Amelia stated confidently, “I don’t touch the stuff. I’m completely sober.”

“Good for you,” Lindsey deadpanned. Louis furrowed his eyebrows. He was about to retaliate when Harry spoke up.

“Weed really helps me, personally,” Harry attempted to calm the tension, “It helps relax me.”

Sabrina opened the door of the van, stretching her arms as she yawned. She squealed when she saw Ariana.

“Ari!” Sabrina cheered, running up to her and embracing her in a bear hug. Ari laughed, petting her hair.

Caden and Sherrie entered the van, Sherrie grabbing at Caden’s shirt before they were fully inside. Caden slammed the door behind them. Lindsey groaned loudly.

“Not again.”

Louis lit up his joint, taking a couple of hits before passing it to Harry, who took it graciously.

“Careful, that’s my last one,” Louis watched as Harry took a deep breath in. Harry passed it back, “No worries, I’ll make you some more for the road.”

“Thanks,” Louis took a hit of the flimsy joint, becoming high a few moments later. He giggled to himself. Harry watched in awe as Louis moved his fringe out of his eyes.

Everyone began to have their own conversations, leaving Louis and Harry in their own world.

“You don’t smoke often, do you?”

“Is it that obvious?” Louis giggled, “Never have the time.”

“Work always busy?”

“No, I surf a lot,” Louis stated, his eyes lighting up, “Keeps me occupied enough.”

“That’s amazing,” Harry awed, “You must be great.”

Louis laughed, “I’m decent enough. Would love to be professional one day.”

Harry gently grabbed Louis, reaching over him to grab the joint from his fingers, “You will be.”

Louis stared at Harry, holding eye contact as he hit the joint. Harry gently blows the smoke in his face, Louis inhaling the smoke lightly. He coughed a little, immediately turning his head away, breaking eye contact. Harry chuckled to himself, his fingers shaking from his growing high.

Eventually, Harry and Louis became higher than a kite flying in the sky, the sides of their bodies against each other. As Louis attempted to light a cigarette from his pack, his fingers shook too heavily to hold the lighter. Harry insisted on helping, “Hold it with your lips for a second.”

Harry grabbed the lighter, lighting Louis’ cigarette as he inhaled. Louis felt his cheeks warm, his eyes droopy and softening. He let the cigarette hang from his lips as he spoke, “Thanks.”

“Anytime.”

The van began to rock back and forth, scaring Louis for a second. Harry laughed at the sight.

“The hell is going on in there?”

“They’re fucking again,” Lindsey was overly peeved, running up towards the two men. Her crotch was directly in front of Louis’ face. He covered his eyes.

“Shut the fuck up!” Lindsey screamed at the top of her lungs, banging on the window, “No one wants to hear that shit!”

The van almost immediately stopped rocking. Harry smiled softly, touching Lindsey’s arm, “Dear—”

“Let them live, shit,” Louis rolled his eyes, “They’re consenting adults. It’s a free country.”

“Fuck off midget,” Lindsey sneered, “You have no idea. They’re always at it.”

“Who cares? Harry and I weren’t bothered?” Louis retorted. Lindsey rolled her eyes, “Piss off.”

As Lindsey stormed away, Harry began to cackle. Louis laughed with him, “What’s so funny?”

“Fuck Lindsey Allen,” Harry almost whispered, before laughing once more. Louis smiled, “Didn’t know you cursed, you dainty little thing.”

“Dainty?” Harry muttered as he attempted to place another joint in his mouth.

“Here, let me,” Louis placed the joint to Harry’s lips, his fingers brushing against his mouth. Harry stared into Louis’ eyes as he did so, inhaling slowly.

Louis lingered his fingers on Harry’s lips for a bit too long. He let go, letting Harry hold the joint once again. Harry sat in silence for a moment, processing his thoughts.

He couldn’t help but find Louis to be incredibly handsome. Not only that, but also endearing. He never wanted him out of his sight, he proposed.


	4. four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> song: rich girl by hall & oates

The shoreline was stunning underneath the midnight sky. Most of the group had headed off to bed in their own vans (which were parked alongside the shore along with Harry’s red van) after the Lindsey fiasco, but Louis and Harry continued to sit around the campfire, Harry strumming on his dark wood guitar. He was strumming “Smoke on the Water”.

“Just learning?” Louis asked. Harry nodded, continuously playing the same keys.

“I haven’t practiced much. Between Sherrie and Caden in the van all the time, having to deal with Linds’ weird, angry paranoia when she smokes, and going to protests, I haven’t had much time for myself,” Harry explained, setting the guitar against the shiny red van. Louis hummed.

“Protests?”

“Yeah,” Harry smiled to himself, “I like to think of myself as a political activist.”

“That’s nice,” Louis admired him, “I think it’s selfless of you. Admirable, really.”

“I suppose,” Harry mumbled, “My parents aren’t too proud. I graduated with honors from Yale in political science, after all, and I don’t have a steady job or income—”

“Wait, what?” Louis’ eyes popped, “You’re a Yale graduate? With honors?”

“Yes?” Harry didn’t understand Louis’ reaction, “Why?”

“That’s incredible, Harry,” Louis continued, “Seriously, that’s amazing. Can’t tell if it’s me or the high talking but you shouldn’t be so humble about that. That must’ve taken a lot of work.”

“And time,” Harry added, “I only graduated two years ago. Had been there since I was 18. Took six years to get my bachelors.”

“You took your time, nothing wrong with that.”

“I suppose,” he repeated himself, staring off into the campfire, watching the flames dance to the sound of waves crashing against the beach, “I think my parents would have expected me to get a job at this point.”

“… but you’re taking your time?” Louis smiled knowingly, his hands resting in his lap, his body turned to face Harry. Harry sighed.

“I seem to take my time with everything … sorry for laying this all on you,” Harry apologized. Louis immediately placed his hand comfortingly on his shoulder, “No need to apologize. I like hearing things about you.”

It was Harry’s turn to look over at Louis, “You do? No one’s ever … ever been interested in what I have to say.”

“Must be because you talk of intellectual things,” Louis stated, “Such as your protests. What’s the first one you ever went to?”

“It was a ‘Women’s Strike’*” Harry smiled to himself as he spoke, reminiscing the day, “I was in Connecticut at the time, about to start my first semester at Yale. A few girls in the bookstore were talking about it, so I asked about it, and they explained what the protest was for. I knew then and there I had to go. I dropped everything and drove an hour and a half to NYC, just to be a part of something special. It meant a lot to me, and it made me realize I wanted to do … all of that, protests and rallies and sign petitions and make changes … for the rest of my life.”

Louis stared at Harry as he spoke, watching his pink lips, his jaw move, the way his eyes would dart around in his memory as he talked about the day. It warmed him deeply to hear someone talk so passionately about something they loved.

“I think I remember hearing about that,” Louis thought aloud, ‘Something about …”

“The passing of the 19th amendment**,” Harry looked up at him, “it’d been 50 years since it was passed. It was a celebration, almost.”

“Like those gay things?” Louis asked innocently. Harry laughed, “You mean pride parades.”

“Yeah, yeah, those,” Louis began to laugh. He felt he may have laughed a little too hard at that, so he apologized. Harry didn’t hear him.

“Speaking of which,” Harry became overly-excited, “There’s a pride parade happening two weekends from now at Stonewall Inn***, would you like to come with me? I invited Caden but I doubt he’ll show up.”

Louis’ heart fluttered at the thought of seeing Harry again, “Yes, of course. I’ve never been to one before … and I’m not gay.”

“Why does everyone say that?” Harry grinned, “You don’t have to be gay to go. It’ll be fun, I promise. And besides … don’t knock it ‘til you try it.”

Harry stuck out his pinky to Louis, who was laughing once again. He wrapped his pinky around Harry’s, shaking their hands before releasing.

A loud bang came from inside the van. It began to rock back and forth slowly. Harry sighed.

“I’m gonna have to get a new van,” Harry pulled out some cash from his pocket, counting what he had left. He nodded before reaching a quarter of the stack, “Yep. I’ll get a nice yellow one, I think.”

“Seriously, where do you get all that cash?” Louis pointed at the wad in disbelief. Harry was humble; he didn’t enjoy talking about his family’s enormous wealth that dated back generations before him. To him, he wasn’t old money; he was simply Harry.

“My parents, it’s an allowance,” Harry started, a bit nervous to speak about it, “I have a feeling I’ll be cut off soon. I better start looking for a job.”

“Ever thought about working at a music shop?” Louis offered, “There’s an opening at Fitz.”

“Thank you, but I’d rather work in politics. It’s my passion.”

“What do you want to do, exactly?”

“If I could, I would do what I’m doing now … forever,” Harry’s eyes went cloudy as he spoke of his dream, “However, I think being a lobbyist wouldn’t be so bad.”

“I heard they’re corrupt,” Louis placed a cigarette between his lips.

“I wouldn’t be,” Harry lit the cigarette for him, “I would be good.”

“They all say that, petal,” the name slipped out on accident. Thankfully, Harry didn’t seem to notice or care. Harry was attentive, so Louis assumed he had ignored it.

Harry grabbed a cigarette from his own pack, lighting it with ease. By now, both the men’s highs had cooled down.

Louis checked his watch, “Ah, it’s almost 1. I better go, got work in the morning … here.”

He pulled an old napkin out of his pocket, “You got a pen?”

Harry happened to have one in his pocket, “here.”

“Thanks,” Louis held his lit cigarette in his mouth as he scribbled his phone number on the stained napkin. He pressed the paper to Harry’s chest, “Call me.”

“Anytime?”

“After 5 on weekdays,” Louis clarified, standing up. He brushed the sand off his legs and bottom before giving Harry a small salute, “See ya.”

As Louis walked away, Harry released the napkin from his chest, letting it fall into his lap. He looked down as the tires of Louis’ bugged scraped against the sand. He grabbed the note, smiling. He’s never been given a number before. Not from someone who Harry already knew was as special as Louis, the guy from the music store.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Women's Strike: The Women's Strike for Equality was a strike which took place in the United States on August 26, 1970. It celebrated the 50th anniversary of the passing of the 19th amendment. The rally was sponsored by the National Organization for Women (via Wikipedia)
> 
> **The 19th Amendment: prohibits the states and the federal government from denying the right to vote to citizens of the United States on the basis of sex. Via Wikipedia)


	5. five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> song: ride like the wind by christopher cross

It had been two weeks since Louis and Harry had seen each other. Mostly because Harry was too nervous to approach Louis again after realizing his massive crush.

Harry never thought about himself as gay. In fact, he was more so just … himself. If anything, he liked whoever came his way that was endearing and sweet. No one had ever been more so that than Louis.

Louis would answer Harry’s midnight calls when he would rant about how someone had said a racial slur to Lindsey, or how he was ripped off on his new van but it hadn’t mattered because it was pretty and looked good when he stood beside it, or how he had found a red flower left on the beach by someone and it reminded him of Louis’ lips … he failed to mention that last part to him.

With every phone call, Harry felt his heart swell more, his eyes become brighter. Lindsey Allen noticed it too.

“What’s got you in high spirits?” Lindsey asked as she munched on some fries one Sunday afternoon. Harry only smiled to himself as he felt the napkin with Louis’ number in his shirt pocket.

“Alright, fine, don’t tell me then,” she laughed as she threw a fry at Harry’s head.

While the past two weeks flew by for Harry, for Louis, they were long and drawn out. Every night, Louis anticipated the phone ringing, for it to be the boy with dark green eyes and a heavenly smile. He could visualize Harry’s laugh whenever Louis said something remotely funny, or how his eyes would light up about the pride parade, or when he could hear Harry light a cigarette inside the telephone booth he would use, since his van didn’t have a phone inside.

“Do you enjoy talking to me?” Harry had asked one night. Louis was confused by the question.

“I do … why do you ask, petal?” Louis had gotten used to calling Harry “petal”; it suited him anyway. He imagined putting flowers in his hair one night, which had accidentally given him … a hard-on.

“No reason,” Harry had lied. He was worried he was annoying Louis. He felt his stomach fill with clouds at the sound of his voice, especially when he called him “petal”. It gave him a hard-on once … or twice.

Every night, it seemed like Harry and Louis would talk about anything and everything, the stars, how they shined, how roses had thorns and how Harry wished they didn’t so he could really hold them, how the clouds looked so ominous at night, how Louis’ mundane day went, how Harry’s average day went, how Harry would never do acid again, how Louis had tried some of Jean’s coke once and it went sour, whether or not aliens existed, and how Harry reminded Louis of a spring field filled with rabbits and witches. Harry laughed at that one.

The day of the pride parade finally came, and Louis agreed to meet Harry on the beach, where his new van was parked next to his old one (which he graciously gave to Sherrie and Caden to keep). Harry was right; Caden had suddenly gotten the flu and wouldn’t be able to show up. It didn’t bother him, though, because Louis and his lovely smell would be there.

He was nervous, though; he had no idea how Louis would be, how he would react to the parade, the excitement of it all. Most of all, he had no idea that Louis would show up in a crop top with small jean shorts and his regular vans.

Louis was more stunning than Harry could have ever conceived one to be; he had high cheekbones that glittered in the summer sun, eyes that glowed in the dark and eyelashes that could fly him and Harry away somewhere where no one would ever know who they were, where his parents wouldn’t rag on him to “get a real job”. He had never wanted something more in his life.

“Hi, petal,” Louis emphasized on “petal”. Harry’s heart screamed.

“Hi,” Harry greeted him with his usual hug, careful not to inhale his scent too deeply. Louis noticed it but didn’t say anything.

“Wanna smoke a joint before we go?” Harry asked. Louis shook his head.

“I wanna be sober for this.”

And he was right to think that way.

All the rainbow lights strung from buildings blinded his eyes as they walked hand in hand down the street. They passed the Stonewall Inn, where on the window, words were plastered; “Home to the Stonewall Riots of 1969”.

There were hundreds, maybe thousands of people walking, their signs huge with marker and paint splattered upon them. Police kept things in line, but for the most part, they didn’t seem to care about all the love that was on display, all the hope that was in the eyes of young queer people who hoped for a better, more equal future to their straight counterparts.

“I love this, Harry,” Louis beamed, turning to face Harry, his eyes light with happiness. It was beautiful; he was beautiful.

“You do?” Harry asked, his cheeks covered in silver glitter. Louis nodded energetically.

“What happens after all of this? What do you do afterwards?” Louis questioned.

“I usually go back to the van, talk Lindsey and Casey’s ear off about it all, then smoke a joint or two,” Harry smiled as he watched Louis look around like he was a kid who’d never been to Disney before.

“Sometimes, I take someone back. Sometimes, I go back to someone’s place. Just for a night,” Harry went on nonchalantly, unaware by the hurt on Louis’ face.

“Take me home,” Louis blurted. Harry stopped in the middle of the road. His hand was still intertwined with Louis’.

“What?”

“I want you to take me home, after this,” Louis had become abruptly shy, his fringe falling into his eyes. The world around them seemed to slow down, voices and cheers and the kissing or strangers blocked in their minds.

“Never leave?” Harry stated, almost like a question. Louis’ breath was shallow as he got closer to Harry, who placed his hands on his bare waist.

“Never,” Louis pressed his lips to Harry’s, whose were so soft Louis felt like he was kissing a china doll. He placed his hands against Harry’s face, pressing his fingers on the back of his ears.

As they tilted their heads to fit each other’s mouths better, the world began to run at a normal speed again. Louis felt so much love in his heart; he never expected this to be the outcome of when he met the boy with no shoes on in the music shop.

“Never ever.”

Harry ran his fingers down Louis’ back, pulling him closer to his body. He felt like that famous 1940’s picture after the win of world war two, he hoped someone was taking a photo so he could hold it close to his chest for an eternity, so he could get it tattooed on his arm and never let it fade.

As Louis released his grasp on Harry’s face, Harry pressed his into Louis’ hair, feeling it’s silky texture between his fingers. Louis laughed, “There’s people everywhere.”

“I don’t care,” Harry pressed a kiss to Louis’ small nose, “And you shouldn’t either.”

“Take me home,” Louis repeated himself, and Harry obliged.

. . .

Inside the yellow van, sweat dripped down Harry’s back, onto the curve of his ass. Small, sweet noises came from Louis’ mouth as Harry pressed into him, his arms wrapped around his small frame. There wasn’t a single inch of skin that wasn’t touching.

“Don’t let me go,” Louis whispered into Harry’s ear.

“I won’t.”


	6. six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> song: free bird by lynyrd skynyrd

Harry never did seem to let go.

Every time they laid together Harry would wrap his arms around Louis the whole thing through. Louis was always flat on his back, staring at Harry’s sweaty face. The sweat would drop off Harry and onto Louis’ face, but he didn’t seem to mind, even when he would profusely apologize mid-thrust.

“S-Sorry, baby, so sorry,” Harry would stutter as he jutted, Louis breathing heavy underneath him.

“It’s ‘kay,” Louis would breathe back, pulling Harry’s face down to kiss him sensually, slow and soft as they always would.

Louis loved the feeling of it all. The skin contact, the way Harry would mumble “okay” at every request he made, the way after they climaxed Harry would make a little “o” with his mouth, hardly making a sound. Sometimes, Louis would yell too loud, or scream a demand a bit too heavily, but then Harry would just kiss him instead, covering his noises with his own, quiet ones.

Harry had never had such intimate sex before. Louis made it that way—not that he wasn’t into anything more, but what they shared, their soft moments, it made it worthwhile, made it easier and more freeing, almost.

Because Louis had his doubts, sometimes.

Louis wanted to settle down one day, have a family home out in Albany or somewhere like it and start a family. He wanted to come home after a long day of work to a freshly made, home-cooked dinner with his partner and children pouncing him as soon as he entered the door. He wanted to put the kids to bed with bedtime stories his mother used to read him, then spend the night with his lover, relieving all the woes of the day.

He wanted it all with Harry. He wondered if he would ever have it.

Harry wanted that all, too, of course. He wasn’t as interested in children as Louis, but he knew he wanted to spend the rest of his life by Louis’ side, doing whatever Louis dragged him to do. And yet, he wanted the freedom he’s always had; a life he enjoys, as an activist, as a free spirit. Not a housewife.

They didn’t talk about it often. Mostly, they talked about sex, or drugs, or the music that would play in the background. Harry would paint his nails and Louis would blow on his fingers to dry them. Louis would paint little stars all over the inside of the van with white nail polish, and Harry would kiss each one as they dried. It was quite dramatic.

But most of all, they both loved each other’s company. Louis would cook meals because Harry seemed to lack in that category (although he was a great baker), and they would enjoy the sunrise and the sunset together, outside the van with all their friends.

When Ralph and Jean would come over, they’d share laughs and play footsie underneath the table. Of course, everyone knew about their love affair, and didn’t seem to mind. Harry and Louis were oblivious to their knowledge of it.

One thing that Harry and Louis loved to do together was go and see movies at the local cinema. Every time, Louis would buy a huge thing of popcorn and two large cokes, and they would sit in the back, away from prying eyes, and feed each other little pieces of popcorn, never keeping their eyes on the movie. Harry would lick Louis’ fingers, something Louis didn’t like at first but almost immediately turned him on, so they would have to practically run home to jump into each other’s arms and into Harry’s bed, where they would lay and sleep for hours on end. Harry would never let go.

Harry loved Louis, that was a fact. Whenever Louis would have to leave in the mornings, he would find himself alone, bored and lost in his thoughts about how he would seduce Louis that night, or how he would be able to listen to all his stories about work that day. Louis learned quickly that Harry liked the details, so he would make sure to take notes throughout the day to read to him at night.

“Then, this mother and her son came in,” Louis would read off his little piece of papers as he held Harry’s hand, who would look at him so endearingly, so lovingly, “And they had an argument.”

“About what?”

“I’m getting there, petal, be patient,” Louis would slowly assure him.

Louis loved Harry. He would melt into his touch, no matter where they were. In the grocery store, when Harry would plead to come along, he would shudder at every pinch of his waist, every secret kiss on his neck, and especially when Harry offered to take what little groceries they had inside for him, he would fond over him in that instant.

It was the domestic stuff that Louis loved. Whenever they would sit in silence as they both read a book; Harry reading “A Room of One’s Own” by Virginia Woolf and Louis reading an article on the newest releases of music from the newspaper, Harry would slowly bring his hand to Louis’, entwining their fingers together and ask, “what’s the latest?” It brought him joy that even if Harry weren’t as interested in Louis’ hobbies, he would still ask, still try to understand. Louis did the same for Harry of course, always asking about the next protest he would go to and why it was so important to him.

Harry was always so kind, so soft, no matter what. He rarely got angry. If he did, it was for Louis leaving a mess on the floor, or forgetting to flush the toilet, “it’s gross, Lou. I don’t want to see it.”

Louis had a temper. A bad one, sometimes. Whenever things went wrong in bed, he would become overly frustrated, stopping everything at once and ignored Harry for at least an hour. When this would happen, Harry would just cry into his pillow, begging Louis to look at him, to not make him feel ashamed, to open up to him.

That was Louis’ main problem; he couldn’t talk about himself. Whenever he tried, he would get frustrated and slam the van door behind him, leaving Harry to stand there like a lump on a pickle with nothing to do but wait for Louis to come back and apologize for his behavior. Harry forgave him every time.

Every time.

Mostly, they were just fine. Everything was almost rainbows and sunshine, as Harry liked to put it when he wrote in his diary (which made Louis fond when he had found it open one morning on Harry’s side of the bed).

One day, during a cool day in November when Louis had a day off, they drove all the way to Kiamesha Lake and found a lovely field of yellow daisies. Harry insisted they pull over so he could see how the color matched with Louis’ tan skin, which only got tanner as he had now moved in with Harry on the beach.

“Harry, darling, it’s freezing,” Louis complained as Harry picked the petals off of the daisy, chanting “he loves me, he loves me not …”

Louis laughed, hugging Harry from behind and standing on his tippy toes to look over his shoulder. Harry continued, nuzzling the side of his face against Louis’ cold one.

“He loves me!” he concluded as he picked the last petal off, turning to face Louis and engulfed him in a hug, lifting him high into the air as Louis screamed with laughter like a young girl in love.

“It’s true, lover, the flower is right.”

Oh, how Louis was in love with Harry. So, so in love. He was in love with his soft skin, even when his chin had tiny little pimples on it from shaving dry. He was in love with Harry’s hand when they would hold a drunk Louis steady on the beach, or when they danced to a slow song. He was in love with the way he would yell Louis’ name during sex, or the way he said it in the morning when he asked what was for breakfast. Louis was truly, madly, deeply in love with Harry. Harry was his soulmate.

. . .

December 1976

One early morning, Louis decided he wanted to surf. Although Harry warned him of a cold, he didn’t care. Surfing was Louis’ greatest passion in life, aside from Harry and music. Harry was number one, of course.

Ralph and Jean had joined them on the beach that morning, watching as Louis caught some waves.

“The water must be freezing,” Harry pouted as he laid against a beach towel, covered in blankets upon blankets.

“He never cares,” Ralph laughed, “He would rather die than not catch the biggest wave.”

“It’s true,” Jean added.

Harry watched as Louis caught a wave, gracefully standing and balancing himself. He was an incredible surfer; almost always catching a wave and never falling off his board. Harry would cheer him on sometimes, and their friends would look at each other, smiling at his innocent proclamation of love for Louis.

“Yes, Louis, that’s it!” Harry abruptly stood, the blankets flying off him, one hitting Jean in the face.

“Ow?”

When Louis ran back to shore, exhausted and tired from riding all the waves, Harry was there to greet him, pulling him into a feverish, shivering hug.

“That was great, baby,” Harry cooed in his ear. Louis shrunk into Harry, cold and wet and slightly growing a hard-on.

“You think so?” Louis whispered seductively, “Wanna see me ride you tonight instead, lover?”

Harry shivered, and not from the cold.

“Hey, lovebirds! It’s getting cold out here, can we go back inside?” Ralph yelled. Harry and Louis immediately let go of each other, running up to the arguing siblings.

“The guy wouldn’t even give me the time of day!” Jean fussed, “He took one look at me and ran off with the coke I paid for. Thought I was the police or somethin’.”

“Jean … what did this guy look like?” Ralph became worried. Jean didn’t notice the switch in his tone of voice from angry at the fact she was buying coke to concerned she was dealing with a … skinhead.

“He had some face tattoos, no hair, thought that was odd—”

“Was he white?”

“What does that matter?” Jean asked innocently. Ralph sighed, “Just tell me.”

“Okay, yeah, he was—"

“Jeanie, he was a fuckin’ skinhead, a racist piece of shit,” Ralph yelled, “You should know better than to—”

“He was recommended by Karen! Karen—”

“Is a racist, clearly,” Ralph rubbed his temples, “God, how could you be so stupid!”

“Fuck you, Ralph!” Jean felt tears pour down her face, “I just wish—”

“Guys, guys please,” Harry began to mediate the situation, “Let’s calm down—”

“Harry, I don’t mean to be an ass, but … you’ll never know of our pain,” Ralph stated, “You’ll never know what it’s like to live as a black man, having to fight just a little bit harder for the smallest things, like buying a home or shopping for a new icebox. You can never understand our struggle, so it’s best you leave this to family.”

Harry frowned, defeated, “What can I do then? How can I help?”

“By being a friend,” Jean cried as she ran to Harry, who pulled her in immediately for one of his comforting hugs.

“I’m so sorry, Jean,” Louis sighed, “Fuck that racist motherfucker. I thought that shit didn’t happen anymore.”

“You just don’t see it,” Ralph was angry, “If it’s not happening to you, it doesn’t matter, right?”

“I never said it didn’t matter, Ralph,” Louis sighed, “I just … I thought after the law was passed…”

“Change takes time,” Harry spoke up, the sound of Jean’s muffled cries filling the silence, “We can only continue to fight for more discussions, more debate—”

“Racism shouldn’t be a debate,” Ralph interrupted. Harry nodded, “You’re right, it shouldn’t be, but for some, it is. And we must have those uncomfortable discussions with family … I’m sorry for trying to pretend like I know, Ralph, because I don’t. I never will. But I won’t stop fighting for you, or Jean, or anyone for that matter.”

“Thank you, Harry,” Ralph let out a small smile, “I appreciate it.”

There was a small silence after that. No one spoke of the matter, and no one brought it up after that.

Jean had the lovely idea to start a campfire. As Louis set it up near the van, Harry passed Ralph and Jean some fluffy blankets to keep them cool while the fire was starting.

“There, got it,” Louis lit the fire with his lighter, a cigarette between his lips. He used the fire to light the stick, inhaling as he did so. He puffed a bit of air from his nose.

Harry had grabbed his guitar and began to strum the song “Free Bird” by Lynyrd Skynyrd. He had been practicing.

“If I leave here tomorrow,” Harry began to sing, “would you still remember me?”

Harry’s voice was rough yet angelic, filling the setting sky. Louis watched, fond growing on his face as he watched Harry’s skilled fingers strum the guitar. Louis made a note to compliment him on his skill later.

“Lord knows, I can’t change.”

…

“What do you want for dinner?” Louis asked in between a bounce between Harry’s legs. Harry grunted as he held his tiny waist.

“Dunno. What do we h-have?”

“Chicken – oh fuck, yes, right there,” Louis leaned over a bit, bouncing more vigorously, “ah, chicken salad sound good?”

“Yeah, baby, that’s fine,” Harry said as he gripped onto Louis harder, moving with his rhythm, “You feel so good.”

“Thanks, petal,” Louis knew the nickname made Harry soar above the universe with sexual tension. Harry flipped him over, finishing in him just as Louis finished.

They laid against each other, gasping for air for the moment. While still on top of Louis, Harry reached over and grabbed his newly rolled joint, lighting it as he held it between his lips as he huffed on it. He passed it to Louis, who declined.

“Gotta cook, and I enjoy doing it more when I’m aware and not burning the van down,” Louis laughed, placing it back between Harry’s lips. They moved off each other as Louis got up, wiping himself off with a shirt and pulled on some boxers.

As Louis began to cook the chicken, Harry laid against the bedframe, his legs laid out in front of him, one knee bent.

“Hey, Lou?” Harry suddenly asked.

“Yes, darling?”

“I love you,” Harry beamed, wiping sweat off his forehead. Louis turned around, smiling.

“I love you too.”


	7. seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> song: waterloo by abba

A week before Christmas day, Louis abruptly awakens. He sits up, feeling cool sweat run down from his neck and onto his back. Harry groggily rubs his hand on Louis’ thigh, urging him to come back to bed, “It’s too early, Lou.”

Louis had a dream, a lovely, darling dream where he and Harry laid side by side in a field of long grass, watching as two young children played together, presumably their own-- a boy and a girl. Harry had a pipe of weed in his hand, puffing on it ever so slowly, his pink lips wrapped around the blue glass. The smoke swirled around Louis, blowing into his hair and around his neck. The smoke then began to choke Louis, sucking the life out of him. He had closed his eyes, holding his neck as the smoke continued to wring his small neck.

When his eyes finally opened, he was in a dining room, marble topping the kitchen counters. The sound of a toaster binged, awakening his senses. A lovely woman stood in front of the stove, in an apron and a modest purple dress. She had shouted for the children to come eat breakfast with their father, and down the stairs ran three different children—two boys, one girl. The daughter greeted Louis with a soft kiss on the cheek, as the two boys stuffed their mouths quickly with food: eggs, toast, and orange juice for a beverage. Something about, “we’re gonna miss the bus!” one of the boys had mumbled while eating, and the woman had calmly said, “no worries, your father will take you, right Lou?”

That’s when he woke up.

“Lou?” Harry began to wake up to his dismay, “Louis, what’s wrong baby?”

“A dream, I had a dream,” Louis mumbled out, “You were there.”

“Wanna talk about it?” Harry asked slowly. He knew Louis wouldn’t open up in the way he desperately wanted him too, but anything to take Louis’ mind off the, clearly, poor dream would be enough for now.

“Okay,” Louis started, “We were … in a field. We were watching our children play in a field. And then … this smoke almost killed me, and I … opened my eyes … there was a woman there …”

Louis sighed in frustration, placing his face in his hands. Harry finally sat up, resting his head on his bent elbow, rubbing Louis’ knee comfortingly. Louis was never good with his words.

“Who was the woman?”

“I think … I think she was my wife, Harry.”

Both were silent for an uncomfortably long time. Harry stared at Louis as he kept his hands over his eyes, not only trying to wake up but to also forget the dream.

Louis hated the idea that one day, Harry might not be in his life anymore. He knew Harry could never give Louis the one thing he always wanted: children. God, how he wanted children. Even if he and Harry could have children together, there were certain laws that prohibited gay couples adopting children together. They weren’t even allowed to be married legally.

“H, I love you,” Louis finally turned to Harry, his eyes red at the rims and tears welling up in his eyes, “You know that, don’t you, petal?”

“Yes,” Harry whispered. He was nervous.

“I want children one day,” Louis blurted, not exactly meaning to but went with it anyway, “I want a big family with lots of little ones running around the house, out in the middle of nowhere, away from the crowded streets of New York.”

“You would be a great dad.”

Louis stared at him, his lips parting, a frown on his face, “So would you.”

“We can have that, if you want it,” Harry fully sat up, taking Louis’ hands in his own, “I never thought I would have more than one kid, but if that’s what you want, my darling, then you shall have it.”

“How, Harry? How could we possibly do that?” Louis began to cry, embarrassing himself, “How could we ever live a normal life?”

“There was a man, once, I believe in ’68, who was able to adopt a child, and he was gay,” Harry attempted to reassure him, “Whose to say we couldn’t?”

“They would never be safe,” Louis shivered as he cried, “We would always be a target.”

Harry held Louis, wrapping his muscular arms around the weeping boy, holding him to his bare chest. He felt Louis’ tears pile onto his stomach.

“Change happens overtime,” Harry started, slow and soft as he pet his lover’s hair, “It will take time. But one day, someday soon, we can start our family. We can get married and own a big beautiful house in Albany, like you said you wanted. We can have a family dog named Spot—”

“Spot? No, absolutely not,” Louis chuckled wetly, “Maybe Max.”

“Whatever you want, my love. I would follow you to the ends of the earth,” Harry pulled Louis out in front of him to face him. He wiped the tears from Louis’ cheeks, which were bright red and stained.

“Can you promise me that?” Louis asked, innocence prevalent in his voice. Harry sighed.

“I can try.”

Louis pulled Harry back down into the soft, feather bed, Harry’s long curly hair spilling around him. He leaned down, placing a soft, wet kiss onto his lips. Harry smiled within the kiss, pulling Louis on top of him, holding his waist.

…

Louis had wanted to go swimming that afternoon, but Harry persisted that he would surely get a cold, “Wait until there are warmer days, for my sake.”

Louis reluctantly obliged; anything for his lover, he supposed.

Later in the evening, while Louis went to work a later shift, Harry invited Casey and Lindsey over. The heater was blasting, as it was nearly 32 degrees outside, and little flurries of snow had fallen from the ominous clouds that filled the sky. It would surely snow the next day.

“Where’s your twink?” Lindsey asked as Casey bundled himself in a blanket, a joint in his hand. They were practically being hotboxed.

“Don’t call him that,” Harry muttered, “And he’s working, as usual.”

“Convince him to quit his job, man,” Casey slurred, laughing at himself. Harry smiled at Casey, “I’ve tried before.”

“I’m not trying to be rude,” Lindsey suddenly felt remorseful. Harry sighed, “I know.”

They sat and ate some fudge brownies that Harry had graciously made. He made sure to save some for Louis when he came home later. Harry checked his watch: about thirty minutes till then.

“I don’t understand him sometimes,” Lindsey munched on a brownie.

“Who, Louis?”

“Yeah, he’s got major issues,” Lindsey began to rant, “We barely know anything about him. Why doesn’t he ever talk about himself?”

“That’s just the way he is, Linds,” Harry smiled to himself, thinking of how much Louis would love his brownies.

“I bet he’s a fuckin’ cop, wanna make a bet Casey?”

Casey wasn’t paying attention, as he was dazed in his high, “Sure, yeah, how much?”

“5 bucks.”

“Deal,” Casey rolled over, letting pieces of the brownie fall onto the couch. Harry rolled his eyes, laughing, “Casey’s about to have 5 extra dollars in his pocket.”

Lindsey laughed, “I bet I will. There’s no way he isn’t. Who has a late shift at a music shop?”

“The holidays are on the way,” Harry explained, “They’re keeping stores open a bit longer than usual.”

“I guess that makes sense,” Lindsey sighed, sluggish in her chair, “I just don’t get it. I wanna get to know him.”

“You will, in time,” Harry assured her, “I think you’ll learn to like him.”

“5 bucks that he doesn’t like Lindsey,” Casey blurted, making Harry laugh. Lindsey narrowed her eyes at the stoner-hippie-man, “I’ll make him like me.”

“You can’t make someone like you,” Harry said between laughs as Lindsey and Casey counted their money to make sure they had enough for the bets they were making. Harry offered to give them some, but they declined.

“That’s so sweet of you, H, but it’s okay,” Lindsey patted Harry’s head, dragging her long fingers down his face. Harry wasn’t bothered by it. Casey noticed it in, even in his dazed high.

“I think someone’s jealous—”

“You shut your mouth, Casey Coughlan,” Lindsey glared. His name suited him well. Casey only cackled, which made Harry laugh once again. Lindsey checked her cleavage: perfect.

“You have a lovely laugh,” Harry noted. Casey winked, “Thanks bud.”

Lindsey rolled her eyes, sitting back down in her seat, “When’s Louis supposed to be back? It’s almost 10.”

“Any minute now,” Harry smiled to himself once again, ready for Louis to be home, “I wonder what stories he’ll have today.”

As if on cue, Louis walked through the door, covered in scarfs and a thick jacket. He immediately kicked his boots off, sighing happily. He was ready to be home.

“Hey Lou,” Lindsey greeted him. Louis nodded towards her, peeling off all his layers until he was in a white shirt, jeans, and socks. Harry spread his legs slightly, making a seat for Louis. Louis took the opportunity. Casey eyed them knowingly. Casey was observant like that.

“How was work, man?” Casey asked. Louis shrugged.

“Same ol’ shit,” Louis chuckled, “Mostly good, though.” He pulled out a piece of paper from his pocket that had writing scrawled all over it. Harry grinned.

“Lot’s of tickets today?” Lindsey asked curiously, leaning forward, resting her elbows on her knees. Harry laughed.

“Uh, no,” Louis was confused, “But lots of sales today. I’m sure Mr. Fitz will be happy with that.”

Harry turned his head, whispering in Louis’ ear, “Lindsey still thinks you’re a cop, baby.”

Louis laughed, “I can assure you all, I’m no cop.”

“Aha!” Casey cheered, sticking his hand out, “5 bucks, Ms. Lindsey Allen.”

Lindsey groaned, passing Casey the money. Harry hummed as Louis said, “I can’t believe you bet on that.”

“Linds was convinced,” Harry stated, “Really thought you were a cop.”

“What made you think that?”

“We don’t know much about you,” Lindsey replied, honestly, “We’d like to.”

“Alright … umm,” Louis thought of where to begin, “Well, for starters, my birthday is March 14th. I have one younger brother named Francis; my parents liked French names I suppose … I had a dog growing up, named Randy … I’ve never seen a play …”

“Tell them your hobbies,” Harry suggested, secretly giving him a kiss on the back of his neck. Louis felt a shiver run down his spine.

“Ah, okay … I love surfing, wanna be as good as Mr. Pipeline* one day, he’s amazing, love that guy … I can cook a mean chicken soup when I feel like it,” Louis began to blabber on about how his favorite band is Queen and he can’t help but hum tunes in his sleep. Lindsey questioned how he would know he does it. Casey rolled his eyes. Casey is such an intellectual.

“Oh, um … and old girlfriend told me I do it sometimes,” Louis lied. It was Harry that told him one morning in July when they had stayed up all night dancing to “Killer Queen” repeatedly.

“Makes sense you work in a music shop,” Casey noted. Louis smiled, “Yeah, but it’s not what I wanna do for the rest of my life.”

“What do you wanna do?” Harry asked, He realized he didn’t know.

Apparently, neither did Louis, “Oh, I don’t know, maybe I’ll become an editor or something. I don’t mind writing.”

Lindsey smiled, genuinely smiled, “That’s nice, Lou.”

“What about you, Lindsey? What do you wanna do?”

“Be a mom, someday,” Lindsey stared off dreamily, “Have a nice husband, live the housewife life.”

“And you, Casey?”

Casey had fallen asleep, “Huh?”

“What do you wanna do?”

“Go back to bed,” Casey fumbled with his sheets as the group laughed at him.

Soon after that, Lindsey and Casey went on their separate ways, and Louis and Harry cuddled between the sheets, the heater set to a lower setting. Louis liked it cold when he slept.

They had removed all their clothing for bed, as they usually did. Louis had wrapped Harry around the middle, reading off his paper about his day, as he did after every shift.

“This girl had come in, high as a kite, asking if we had any hotdogs,” Louis smiled at the memory, chuckling softly, “Ralph referred her to Jonah’s street shop around the corner.”

“I love that place. We should go tomorrow if you aren’t busy.”

“I’m not,” Louis turned Harry to face him, his eyes hooded, “I’m not busy at all, petal.”

Harry shuddered at the name, “Oh really?”

“Yep,” Louis climbed on top of Harry, straddling his hips, “Which means …”

“We’ve got all night,” Harry leaned Louis down, feeling his ass rub against his groin, kissing his softly.

“Mhmm,” he leaned down to Harry’s neck, leaving slow, sensual kissing down to his tummy.

With the windows open and the steam of the van rushing out, the small squeaks of the tires emitting sound into the nightly sky. The wind blew the white curtains as Louis’ soft noises echoed inside. The nightly moon shone onto the warm sand as Harry grasped Louis’ hips tightly, surely leaving bruises the next morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Mr. Pipeline: Gerry Lopez (born November 7, 1948), aka Mr. Pipeline, is an American surfer, shaper, journalist, and film actor. (via Wikipedia)


	8. eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> song: crazy on you by heart
> 
> note: I've never written anything like this, so I'm sorry if it sucks. I was triggered halfway so it might not be amazing, but I hope y'all still enjoy it. <3

Louis insisted on wearing a crop top to the club that night, even with it snowing outside. He made sure to wear boots and low-rise jeans, at least. Harry made him wear a jacket, which he promised he would hold on to so it wouldn’t get lost. Louis loved the jacket.

Harry was hesitant, of course, knowing flirty, drunk men would be all over him the moment they stepped inside. It’s why he made sure to hold Louis’ waist with a tight grip as soon as they entered the gay club.

“Crazy on You” by Heart was blaring through the speakers when they toppled inside, Louis already high and euphoric with love in his heart. There were probably hundreds of bodies inside, the switch from the December cold to what could be compared to an August heat wave rushed into their senses, immediately throwing off their jacket.

Harry kept his promise, watching Louis dance with the crowd, sweat dripping down his face and stomach. Harry watched as his eyes became ravenous, filled with starvation for his lover’s touch.

_Every time I think about it, I want to cry  
With bombs and the devil, and the kids keep comin’  
No way to breathe, no time to be young_

Louis felt the pound within his eardrums, his hips swaying to the music as he and another man touched bodies. Harry stood abruptly, before noticing Louis slightly apologize and share some words before respectfully moving away from him. Harry sighed, content, sitting back down on the bar stool. He held a blunt in his hand, a drink in the other where their jackets were bunched up in the crook of his elbow.

Louis made eyes with Harry, the glitter sparkling down from the ceiling resting on his glistening cheekbones. He noticed the look in his eyes, the deprivation of Louis’ skin against his; how it frustrated him. He winked, letting him beseech for his body for a little longer.

_But I tell myself that I was doin’ all right  
There’s nothin’ left to do at night_

As Harry finished his smoke, he felt the high take over him, controlling his thoughts and movements as he stood from the bar, leaving a 20 for the bartender. Overpriced, cheap beer, and a generous tip.

He strides over to Louis, placing his hands on his waist from behind. Louis was startled, turning to see who the mysterious figure is. He sighs with exacerbation to see his lover, his ocean, and his white painted stars inside the yellow van.

“Take me home,” Louis practically pleaded, his eyes red and full of lust.

“We’ve only been here an hour—”

“Take me home, petal,” the sweat poured down his cheeks, almost as if he was crying, “I want you.”

_But go crazy on you  
Crazy on you  
Let me go crazy, crazy on you, oh_

Harry pulled Louis into a hungry kiss, his tongue down his throat. Their kiss was familiar, skilled with movement. The taste of ketchup from their earlier hotdog session and desperation was in his mouth. Louis pulled at his waist, bringing him closer, as if they weren’t already close enough. He felt Harry’s cock twitch beneath him as they rubbed their fronts together.

Louis wasn’t a fan of public display, but here, in the safety of others like him, it wasn’t as scary … as dangerous.

They pulled their jackets on, smoothly exiting the club.

_My love is the evenin’ breeze touchin’ your skin  
The gentle, sweet singin’ of leaves in the wind_

Harry wrapped his arm around Louis’ waist, holding him as they walked down the street. Harry felt the chill of the early morning brush against his skin, flying Louis’ long hair with the wind. He felt Louis cuddle closer to him on the subway, where only one other person was present. He seemed to have also come from the club.

Through the jacket, Harry placed a gloved hand on Louis’ bare stomach, drawing circles as they awaited their stop. Louis leaned over, placing a tongued kiss just below Harry’s ear.

Their stop arrived soon enough, and it was only a block or two until they reached the van. Louis held onto Harry’s hips, desperate for him and his warmth.

When they entered the van, the heater was already on at a medium setting. As soon as they had kicked their shoes off, Harry slammed Louis against a bare wall, attaching his lips to his neck, sucking lightly as Louis squirmed beneath him.

Louis began to unbutton Harry’s pants, sliding them down with ease. It wasn’t so simple for Louis’ jeans; as Harry made his mark against Louis’ neck, he struggled to pull off his tight, sweaty jeans that fit the shape of his ass so perfectly, so tailored to his body.

_The whisper that calls after you in the night  
And kisses your ear your ear in the early moonlight_

Harry tugged at Louis’ shirt, pulling it off as he made his way back to his lips, a somehow soft kiss for their state of minds: sex, sex, sex.

Harry had his lover’s arms pinned up against the wall, his boxers falling off his ass slightly. Louis begged to touch his ass, to hold his hands there and never let go.

“You’re so fucking hot,” Harry whispered in Louis’ ear, sending a chill down his spine as Harry essentially threw him onto the feathered mattress. A feather popped out from the side, flying.

Louis was completely nude, teasing Harry by brushing his fingers a top his cock before grabbing ahold of it and pumping once, twice. Harry’s eyes darkened with fervor as he watched Louis, the way his lips parted, the sound of a guttural moan escaping his lips, all while making contact.

As Louis put on his show, Harry climbed on top of him, leaning over to grab his pipe filled with freshly added weed. He lit it, puffing on it slowly, wrapping his lips just right around the blue glass. It only turned Louis on more.

Harry placed the pipe lazily to Louis’ lips, who puffed a couple times before coughing slightly, the smoke into Harry’s face. He chuckled slightly, “Sorry, petal.”

The name only made Harry’s hard-on grow, “Pleasure is always mine.”

_And you don’t need to wonder, you’re doing fine  
My love, the pleasure’s mine_

Harry kissed down Louis’ stomach, down to his bluish cock. He placed his lips around the tip, swirling the head with his tongue. Louis shuddered, letting out a soft moan. He expertly sucked his shaft, Louis bending his knees and spreading his legs, slightly moving his hips upward. Harry held his hips down with force as he continued to lick at his shaft, up and down his length he went.

When he finished, Louis dripped with pre-come, down the shaft in pumps of liquid. Harry licked off what he could, swallowing the salty substance. He felt his cock twitch when Harry placed a blue latex condom onto himself, something they didn’t usually do but he felt was necessary from time to time.

Louis grabbed Harry’s face; his eyes full of lust as he kissed him lovingly, sensually.

“I fucking love you,” Louis breathed, “So much.”

“You,” Harry breathed back, stuttering, “So much more. More than you could ever know.”

“Show me.”

Harry stuck two fingers in Louis’ mouth, who sucked and wetted them. His eyes were hooded, ready for anything in that moment. With lazy fingers, Harry pushed into Louis, but not before rubbing up and down the entrance. Louis gasped, clawing his fingers at Harry’s t-shirt.

“Why is this still on,” he pulled the shirt over Harry’s head, who removed his fingers swiftly to throw the shirt somewhere unknown, then shoved his fingers back in, this time three.

He wanted to wait a moment before he pounded him senseless. So romantic.

He kept eye contact with Louis the whole time, watching his lips twitch, his eyes flutter into the back of his head as he emitted sinful sounds into the air. Harry continued to pump his fingers as Louis begged for more, pleaded for it, really. His cock was turning purple.

_Let me go crazy on you  
Crazy on you  
Let me go crazy, crazy on you, oh_

“Now, baby,” Louis beseeched his lover, his petal, his life. Harry obliged, gently moving his cock into Louis; he couldn’t let his darling wait too long. Louis let out a rasping yell as he did so, Harry immediately wrapping his arms around Louis’ middle, holding him close, never letting go.

Harry knew just where to hit Louis perfectly, making him “ahh” with every hit of his prostate. He let out soft moans as he did so, while Louis’ loud, rough noises reflected against the stars inside the van. He felt the van shake as he pounded into Louis, feeling Louis’ swaying cock hit his middle every so often.

Louis cupped Harry’s ass, kneading his fingers into the flesh as Harry settled his lips onto Louis’ parted ones, their tongues grazing against each other. Louis moved his hands up and down Harry’s bottom and back as Harry continued to bruise into his admirer, feeling his cock twitch inside him. It was an ungodly feeling; he craved more.

_Wild man’s world is cryin’ in pain  
What you gonna do when everybody’s insane?  
So afraid of one who’s so afraid of you  
What you gonna do? Oh_

Louis became erratic with his noises, screaming “Fuck, Harry!” while pushing into him, Harry’s sweaty face in the crook of Louis’ neck, grunting into his shiny skin.

As Harry’s pumps became more vigorous, so did Louis’. He raised his arms above his head, turning his head to the side, a grin plastered on his face as the temporary pain turned into immense, everlasting pleasure.

“Wanna get on top, baby?” Harry panted into Louis’ neck as he let out a rough chuckle of pleasure at Harry’s consistent movements. Louis was in complete ecstasy.

“No, keep holding me, never let me go,” Louis pleaded, turning his head to kiss Harry. Harry brought their faces forward, pushing deeply, passionately into their wet, sloppy.

“Always,” Harry promised into Louis’ mouth, continuing to push into him, his pounds becoming slower, longer as he was close to coming. Louis was close too; he was thrilled at the idea that they would finish together, in harmony.

_Ooh crazy on you  
Crazy on you  
Let me go crazy, crazy on you_

Louis’ sobs of euphoria blew into Harry’s ear as they finished, Harry coming zealously into the condom, while Louis came onto their stomachs, “Yes, yes, fuck yes,” Harry groaned as he pumped into Louis a few more times, before exiting him. He sat up, straddling his hips and looked at his darling.

Louis was sweaty, shining with not only streams of salt but of an elated high, his eyes rimmed red with exhaustion. Harry grabbed a discarded piece of clothing, wiping the white liquid from their stomachs. He removed the filled condom carefully, tying it off and throwing it into the bin beside the bed.

_I was a willow last night in a dream  
I bent down over a clear running stream  
Sang you the song that I heard up above  
And you kept me alive with your sweet flowing love_

Harry laid down beside Louis, spooning him into a ball of fluff and love. Louis swiped the sweat off his brow, turning towards Harry.

“I loved that,” Louis breathed, pressing his lips to Harry, his lips tasting like salty sweat, his hair dripping with sex, “I love you.”

“I love you,” Harry replied, his eyes droopy from sleep calling his name. He noticed the window was open, the white blinds blowing from the breeze of the outside chill and heater. It had stopped snowing.

“Should we close the window?”

“No, no, don’t get up,” Louis cuddled into Harry, his eyes closed, “Wanna sleep forever.”

“You did great, baby, really got me going,” Harry pressed his lips to his hair, “Let’s do that forever.”

“Yes, forever and ever,” Louis slurred, already half asleep, “Wanna keep you here, like this.”

“You’ll have me forever, darling.”

 _Crazy on you_  
Crazy on you  
Let me go crazy, crazy **for** you, oh 


	9. nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> song: strange magic by electric light orchestra
> 
> WARNING: GRAPHIC

Morning glimmered through the transparent blinds, the nail-polish-painted stars on the wall illuminating, glowing throughout the van. Louis stirred in his sleep, reaching his arm out for his lover, feeling a cold, hard presence.

“H?” Louis called out-- his voice groggy. Harry chuckled; he was leaning against the wall with one of the windows open as he smoked a cigarette in the nude, resting his weight onto one side.

“Yes, baby?” Harry cooed, inhaling the cigarette casually, blowing the smoke out the window. He turned his torso to face Louis. His ass and a leg were sticking out from the covers, the sheets lazily placed around him.

“Come ‘ere,” Louis groaned, his exhaustion preventing his eyes from opening. Harry smiled, “I’m smoking a cig, you sure?”

“Gimme,” he pleaded, rolling over onto his sweaty back, eyes still closed with his arms now sprawled out on the bed. His chest rose and fell at a consistent pace, his lips parted as he fell back asleep. Harry checked the analog clock on the bedside table; 7:36 AM.

Harry made his way to the bed, sitting on Louis’ right side (as he had taken up most of the bed with his striking sleeping habits, which included kicking Harry at night and humming in his sleep). He gently placed the cigarette onto Louis’ lips, who woke up enough to inhale the nicotine, feeling it fall back into his mouth before he blew the air slowly into Harry’s face.

Harry placed his nose to Louis’ cheek, before leaning in to kiss it. There was still glitter from the night before.

“You better take a shower, love,” Harry breathed into Louis’ skin as he continued to situate tiny kisses all over his face. Louis began to fond, turning his face to Harry’s, meeting his lips.

They lingered like that for a moment, feeling each other’s mouths against one another. There was no hunger or lust; only sweet, soft pecks and tiny noises from Louis as Harry cupped his face, predilecting into his already swollen lips. He was obsessed with kissing him; he could go on for hours at a time, biting and sucking without ever fucking. If he had to, he would go the rest of his life without sex if it meant he got to kiss Louis, just like this.

“What do you want to do today?” Harry asked, his lips barely touching Louis’.

“Let’s go see a movie, then you can fuck me against the table when we get back,” Louis answered nonchalantly. Harry laughed, genuinely laughed, “Whatever you want, baby.”

Louis finally opened his eyes, staring into a green, heavenly abyss. His petal smelled clean, like summer rain and oatmeal, his hands were warm on his face, his eyelashes thick and soft, so light against his fingertips.

“What are you doing?”

“Remembering you like this,” Louis joked, “When we’re fat and old, we won’t look like this.”

“We’ll stay forever young,” Harry proposed, “You and me? We’ll never grow old.”

“Technically impossible, but alright,” Louis sat up, Harry’s hands on his face lingering off ever so languidly, “Whatever you say, loverboy.”

“Loverboy? That’s new,” Harry smiled at the name, “I like it.”

“You do, don’t you,” Louis abruptly gripped at Harry’s soft cock, “Does it make you all hard and ready for me?”

“What’s got you so fired up?” Harry laughed as he removed Louis’ hand from his semi hard-on, “You’re never this vibrant in the mornings.”

Louis only shrugged, stretching his arms into the air. Harry went to pinch one of Louis’ nipples, making him flinch and gasp, laughing as he fell back down onto the bed.

Louis pulled on his boxer briefs from his newly made space in Harry’s drawers (he’d practically moved in) and started to make a simple, easy breakfast: eggs and toast.

As he whisked the eggs, Harry hugged him from behind, sliding his hands around his waist sensually, “Come take a shower with me.”

“Right now? I’m busy cooking for you.”

“Mhmm, I wanna wash your hair, feel it between my fingers,” Harry whispered into his neck, “Wanna watch you rub yourself clean.”

“You’re a perv,” Louis laughed, turning around, nibbling on Harry’s earlobe, “How do I put up with you?”

Harry lifted Louis into the air, his strong legs wrapping around the other’s middle. As they began to make out, Louis necking at Harry mostly, Harry led them to the makeshift shower at the back of the van. Louis removed his briefs as the water came rushing down atop of them.

. . .

They walked hand in hand down the busy streets of New York City, Louis carefully watching for the judging eyes of passersby. Either he was sure that no one was looking, or he happened to miss some stares. Either way, he was content. He was holding Harry’s hand, in public for the first time.

After about 7 months of seeing each other, Louis finally, _finally_ felt like he could at least hold his lover’s hand in public. It terrified him immensely; he had no idea what people could be capable of, even in a place like NYC.

Harry was ecstatic when Louis carefully slipped his hand into Harry’s while standing on the subway. They were mostly hidden by the tens of people on the bus that early Sunday, so Louis wasn’t as nervous. Harry had leaned over to whisper in his ear, “I’m proud of you.”

Now, they were about a block away from the movies, ready to see the new film “A Star Is Born” with Harry’s favorite actress, Barbara Streisand. The movie had already been out for a couple of weeks, and Harry had been dying to see it. He was glad Louis suggested the movies.

When they arrived, Harry pushed Louis onto a hidden cement column, away from any curious eyes. Without a word, he leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to Louis’ parted mouth. Louis furrowed his eyebrows, “You couldn’t wait until we got into the movie?”

“I’m … I’m so proud of you, Louis. I couldn’t help myself,” Harry grinned like a child, placing a kiss onto his nose, “Let’s go get our tickets.”

As they walked to the ticket booth, a man dressed in a roughed-up leather jacket peered at them, a cigarette hanging from his lips. He had noticed the two earlier. He began to size them; he was more than half their sizes.

“Hey,” the man called. Harry turned while Louis immediately removed his hand from Harry’s. Harry felt lost without his touch.

“Yeah?” Harry replied.

“You guys kissin’ over there?” the man began to approach them. What seemed like magic, two other men popped out of thin air, both dressed similarly. Louis noted the motorcycles parked over near the side of the building; they were a biker gang.

“That’s none of your business,” Harry politely replied, trying to calm the situation. He could feel Louis physically buzzing beside him. He prayed he wouldn’t say anything and let the situation blow over.

“It is in this part of the city,” another man spat, spitting his chewing tobacco on the ground. Harry didn’t know how to respond, “We’ll just be on our way then—”

“Not so fast, faggot,” the first man pulled Harry’s shoulder back as he had turned away. Louis immediately yelled, “Hey, fucker! Let him go.”

“Hey, the little twink is brave,” the third man laughed, his voice rough and ugly. Louis spat at his feet, “Fuck you. Get your hands off him.”

“Or what? You’ll mess up your pretty nails on my face?” the man growled, furious. Louis looked down at his hands; he forgot Harry had painted them last night for the club.

“Lou, please, let’s just leave,” Harry pleaded quietly as the two other men grabbed Harry by the shoulders. There was no way Harry could take both the burly men on by himself.

“Come on, fuckin’ queer, come hit me,” the man taunted Louis, who at this point was raging in anger, seeing bloodshot red.

Louis ran up to the man before he could remove his gloves, knocking him directly in the nose. The man’s nose began to gush violently, “Fuck!”

Harry tried to grab at Louis, to get them away from the situation, but the two men held him down, pushing him onto his knees, “You’re gonna sit here and watch your faggot get his ass beat.”

Although Louis gave a powerful first punch, the man was much stronger, more vigilant in his movements. He grabbed Louis by the shoulder and hit him in the stomach, causing Louis to fall to his knees. Harry sobbed as he watched Louis’ face become a mess, covered in blood and wounds only stitches could fix.

Louis started to protect his face, realizing he would surely lose this fight. His forearms began to ache from the pain of the man’s ring scraping into his flesh. He could hear Harry’s loud sobs as Louis attempted to not make as much noise as he possibly could. He felt that by crying, it would show the man he had made his mark.

“Please, someone! Anyone!” Harry screamed. As the tears ran down his cheeks, blood gushed from Louis’ arms and face.

Bystanders only watched in horror as Louis was kicked to the ground, the man punting him in the ribs. Louis curled in the fetus position, hoping to protect his vital organs from more blows.

The hits felt everlasting, never-ending. He wondered if he would die in front of Harry.

“C’mon Vlad, that’s enough, the flamer’s got the point,” one of the men nagged. He was getting bored of the fight. Vlad looked down at a helpless Louis, Harry’s cries ringing in his ears.

“Don’t wanna see your fucking face here again, you hear me fairy?” Vlad spit on Louis’ face, the liquid stinging his cuts. Louis kept his mouth shut, his eyes open and piling with tears. He wouldn’t cry in front of these pieces of shit.

“I said, I don’t wanna see you or your boyfriend here ever again! You hear me?!” Vlad bent down, slapping Louis in the face like a dog who’d done something wrong. The bystanders began to scatter as Louis spit out, “Yeah.”

Louis didn’t know how long he laid on the ground for. The cool cement felt warm on his face. He could see the blood pouring out of his face and onto the concrete below. He was sure he would bleed out.

Harry was pushed to the ground, one of the other men spitting in his general direction before they shooed off the rest of the witnesses. Not one said a word as they went on about their day. Not one stopped to help them. Not one.

Harry sniffled as he crawled over to Louis, his tears hitting the ground with a thud as he removed his scarf, pressing lightly onto the deepest of Louis’ wounds. Louis couldn’t move; he felt like he had been defiled, as if his pride had been molested.

“Louis, baby, sit up for me,” Harry tried to whisper but it came out more like a sob of agony. That’s how Louis felt—pure agony.

Harry managed to get Louis up off the ground and standing, as dizzy as he may have been. He felt like he would throw up, and he did when he ran to the nearest bin and vomited the rest of his pain away. At this point, the cuts began numb, his arms bruised.

. . .

Louis didn’t leave the van for six days. He lost his job at Fitz Beats, one of the only places he felt at home other than the van that was now decorated in Christmas lights for the holiday. Harry assured him that he would take care of him. Louis didn’t care anymore.

Something had changed in him as he laid on the couch as Harry sponge-bathed his wounds, tears dripping down off his chin every time Harry did so, a blunt hanging from his lips to ease the pain. He and Harry would never be safe.

What kind of future could they have, could their _children_ have, if they couldn't even hold hands without getting humiliated in public?

“Can I get you anything, baby? Some soup, maybe?” Harry pleaded, begging for Louis to say anything. Louis hadn’t said a word since the day, other than the usual humming in his sleep, and now, the sobs that would emit from his lips whenever he dreamed.

Louis said nothing.


	10. ten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> song: tiny dancer by elton john

“Baby?”

Louis was laying on the couch, counting the number of bulbs that were strung on the Christmas lights that he could see hung outside. Harry had hung them up graciously while Louis healed from his wounds.

They were supposed to do it together.

“I’m gonna make you some soup, okay?” Harry leaned over, pressing a soft kiss to Louis’ forehead. Louis said nothing.

For seven days, Louis didn’t talk to Harry.

Not that he didn’t want to, but because he was so _numb_. He couldn’t feel anything; the pain on his face, the heartache he felt for gradually losing Harry, the love in his heart. He felt nothing. Never mind not being able to talk about himself ever, he certainly didn’t know how to talk about this, about them.

He couldn’t help but be angry—no, pissed. He was raging inside, ready to let it all out. He was furious that Harry had showed public affection with him, knowing how dangerous it could be, and look where it got him. And yet … he was upset with himself more. For antagonizing Vlad, the biker, for trying to protect his lover. He should have let Harry the mediator fix things. He pondered about how it would have gone had he only stayed quiet.

Louis played the memory repeatedly in his mind. The swearing, the slurs, but most of all, the agonizing screams that sounded from Harry’s throat. It was as if every punch Louis took, Harry felt it too. When he thought about it, he would cry, quietly as to not wake Harry from his slumber.

He didn’t know it, but Harry woke up, every time, his soul screaming at him to not wrap his arms around him. To hold him. To never let go, as he promised.

Where they were in a relationship, Louis had no idea. He had never referred to Harry as his “boyfriend”; somehow, that made it more real. It terrified Louis, honestly shook the nerves throughout his bruised body. His heart reached for Harry; his mind prevented it. He wanted to cry in Harry’s arms; his body stopped him.

So, there he sat, for an entire week, in the same position other than when he stumbled to the bathroom. After he had come back from the bathroom, he found Harry in the kitchen, boiling yet another bowl of soup for Louis. Louis cleared his throat; Harry practically broke his neck turning it to look at him.

“Hi,” Louis scarcely whispered, his voice scratchy. Harry’s eyes welled with tears.

“Baby,” Harry rushed to Louis, ready to embrace him, his darling, his light, his world, when Louis stuck a hand out, refusing his touch. Louis turned his head, a tear running down his cheekbone, stinging an almost-healed scar.

“I’m angry.”

“You have every right to be—”

“At you.” Louis murmured. Harry sucked in a breath, not prepared for an answer. He let Louis speak after a uncomfortable silence. Harry turned off the stove.

“I told you I hate public affection, and this is why,” Louis pointed at himself, his voice becoming shaky as he raised his voice, “It can’t happen again.”

“I’m supposed to completely ignore you in public, then? Pretend you’re nothing more than a friend?” Harry couldn’t help but become irate, “I love you, and I want to—”

“Show me? Show me here, in private, or around our friends, but not at the fucking movie theater, Harry,” Louis snapped, “This … we can’t … we can’t be like everyone else—”

Harry blinked away angry tears, “Maybe you shouldn’t have initiated a fight you couldn’t win, ever thought of that? You’re at fault to … you … you selfish bitch!”

Louis clenched his jaw, “Fuck you—”

“Fuck me? Seriously? The one whose fucking sponge-bathed you for a week, cooked your meals as best as I could, brushed your hair, tended the wounds you essentially did to yourself? And what do I get? An ungrateful boyfriend?” Harry breathed heavily, anger overcoming him, “I have cried for you, felt the pain you’ve felt. I’ve shared your anger, those men were pieces of shit who will burn in time, but don’t come at me and tell me to ‘fuck off’.”

“Harry—”

“Don’t say another word, you asshole. I love you, did the bandages on your arms give you a pause?” Harry had tears strolling down to his chin, his voice breaking, “You don’t want public affection? Fine, but you can’t just ignore my entire goddamn presence for a _week_ and then push me away as soon as you start talking again. You can’t keep pushing me away, tell me anything, fucking talk to me Lou,” Harry started to sob, screaming, “Open your heart to me!”

Harry fell to the ground, crawling towards Louis, his chest rising up and down rapidly, “Give me anything, I’m here for you, forever. I won’t let you go, I promised you that. I’ll always hold you, comfort you, love you God damnit! Just show a little bit of appreciation back, is all I ask.”

Louis carefully kneeled to the ground, holding his hands out. Harry immediately fell onto him, his tears piling onto Louis’ chest. Louis was crying, almost as badly as Harry.

“I’m so sorry, petal,” Louis cried, “I want to tell you what’s on my mind, I do, I want to open up to you, but … I can’t feel anything. I feel so numb, H. I can’t feel anything.”

“Tell me what you can,” Harry pleaded, “I’m here, I’m always here.”

Harry held Louis as they stood, moving off the uncomfortable floor and onto the fluffy, orange-sheeted bed. Harry began to spoon Louis, his lips on the back of his neck. He still had his arms wrapped around Louis’ middle.

“Talk to me,” Harry nipped at Louis’ skin, “Open up.”

“I feel sick, constantly,” Louis breathed, his voice basically gone at this point, “I feel like I was defiled, H. For a moment … I didn’t want to live. I would have rather died on the cement than go through that ever again.”

Louis felt Harry’s tears on his back as Harry moved to his shoulder, “It makes me wonder about us. How will our futures look? How will we be able to have the family we want?”

“I think,” Harry turned Louis over slowly, to make sure his bandages stayed on, “I think you’ve lost hope.”

“I have,” Louis’ dry lips were parted, his cheeks stained as he stared at his world, “I can’t see the future.”

“None of us can,” Harry started, wiping the tears from Louis’ face, “It’s scary, I know. But we must be strong, baby. So strong, and you are, lover. You’re so strong, you’ve physically recovered from something so vile, so disgusting. I … I don’t know what to do,” Harry mumbled the last part, “Because you don’t talk about those things.”

“I want to start,” Louis sniffled, “I want to be better. In time … I’ll feel better.”

The snow began to pile outside. Harry watched as the snowflakes fell from the sky. They looked like little angels, glittering in the soft sunlight. Harry smiled a sad smile.

“I want you to hold me, all the time,” Louis asked. Harry raised an eyebrow.

“All the time?”

“In front of friends is okay too…” Louis thought about it, then nodded, sniffing, “And maybe, like you say, one day, we can be in public together, holding hands, kissing me, kissing you …”

Louis pushed his lips to Harry’s, his soul exploding with crackling firewood, his spirits risen from the graveyard. Harry pulled Louis closer, their bare chests touching. Harry was gentle; the bruises hadn’t fully recovered, but he hoped Louis’ doubts had.

. . .

Christmas morning came a week later, and Lindsey had invited everyone parked on the beach to her van, a simple white and black Volkswagen. Ralph and Jean joined all of them, courtesy of Harry and Louis.

Lindsey had cooked a huge, lovely meal to accommodate everyone: a large roasted turkey, mashed potatoes, gravy, various steamed vegetables, a chocolate éclair pie, and some KFC chicken strips*. Clearly, Lindsey went all out.

"メリークリスマス!” Lindsey greeted Harry and Louis in her parent’s native Japanese tongue, pulling them into a hug, “Glad you both could make it!”

“We are too,” Harry grinned, Louis opening the large bag full of Christmas gifts. He looked through the bag, pulling out a small, perfectly wrapped present with her name scrawled on it, thanks to Louis. They had stayed up all night Christmas Eve wrapping and labelling presents.

“There you are, from us,” Harry beamed as Lindsey squealed, unwrapping the present immediately. It was a stunning silver bracelet, her name engraved on it. She held it to her chest, her eyes beaming, “Thank you loves!”

“Of course,” Louis smiled. His wounds had almost completely healed. There was only a small scar above his eyebrow, but it felt more like a cat scratch than anything else. He hoped no one would ask about it.

“Is everyone already here?” Harry frowned as he walked towards the giant campfire, surrounded by people and their parked cars and vans. Louis furrowed his eyebrows—he didn’t know they could have _driven_ down the beach instead of walking through the freezing cold.

“You were the only ones who showed up on time,” Lindsey noted, “Everyone else came early. Casey was an hour early because he read the invite wrong.”

“Typical Casey,” Louis and Harry laughed as Louis hauled the bag of presents down to the campfire.

“Lou, what’s up man!” Ralph bounced out of his sitting position, embracing Louis. Louis grinned as he greeted Ralph with a “Merry Christmas!”

Jean came over, pushing a tiny baggie of cocaine in his pocket sneakily, “Merry Christmas Lou, from us to you.”

“Oh, how generous of you Jean,” Louis laughed, pushing the baggie into his pocket further. Harry eyed him suspiciously. Louis only winked.

“Yoohoo! H and Louis!” Sherrie ran out of one of the vans, sweat dripping down her face, “Caden and I have a surprise for you.”

“If it’s sexual, we’ll pass,” Louis immediately blurted, Harry cackling at Sherrie’s fallen face.

“Fine, you don’t deserve any of this ass anyway,” Sherrie ran back towards the van, swinging the door open, “They said no!”

Harry watched her run off, “She does have a nice ass.”

Louis whacked his shoulder, “Mine is nicer.”

“True,” Harry hummed as he reached over, squeezing his ass playfully. Louis beamed.

Harry and Louis began to pass around presents; Casey received a glorious marble-glass bong (Louis’ idea), Ralph received a couple of vinyl from various artists, Jean received diamond studded earrings (“Don’t pawn those for coke or I swear to God I will send you back to mom’s” Ralph had warned her), Amelia received a leather-bound journal with an eccentric-looking fountain pen, Ariana received a photo album (Louis remembered how she had once mentioned she was a photographer), and Louis had filled a shopping bag of condoms for Sherrie and Caden, secretly placing it in their van for them to see later on.

From their friends, Harry and Louis received a camcorder (for Harry mostly), some vinyl (from Ralph to Louis), two large sweaters for each of them, and of course, the cocaine in Louis’ pocket. Sherrie gave them a single piece of rope. Oh, Sherrie.

As for each other, Harry and Louis decided they would show their presents to each other when they got home. Louis was anxious; he had no clue what he could have possibly received from his boyfriend.

Boyfriend. Boyfriend.

Louis made Harry a promise that they would share their relationship status with their friends, and Louis had the idea to do so on Christmas. Harry prayed no one would react badly, but he trusted his friends enough to know they would never purposefully, intentionally hurt him or Louis.

Lindsey prepared plates as Casey started a prayer circle. Everyone held hands, bowing their heads to pray. Harry squeezed Louis’ hand reassuringly.

“Dear Lord in heaven,” he began, giggling slightly at the seriousness of it all, “Thanks for making Lindsey’s parents have sex 24 years ago so she could, one day, make this delicious meal.”

Lindsey slapped her forehead, shaking her head.

“Don’t break the prayer circle, Linds! … I would also like to thank you, God, yes you Mr. Big Man, for all the wonderful weed we shall smoke tonight—”

“None for me!” Amelia interrupted the prayer. Casey glared at her.

“Anyway, sorry for that rude interruption God. As I was saying, please bless us with your Grace and charm, and fill our bellies with scrumptious food for the rest of our long, long lives. Amen.”

“Amen,” the group mumbled as they started to dig into their meal. Louis over-filled his paper plate, and had a hard time keeping it steady. It didn’t help that he and Harry held hands as they ate, never letting go.

They practically scarfed down their meal, everyone finishing around the same time. Ralph and Casey went for seconds. Casey went for thirds, then fourths … at least Lindsey wouldn’t have leftovers to deal with?

Louis slowly, over time, made his way into Harry’s lap, his head leaning against his chest.

“We have an announcement!” Sherrie screamed into the air, giddy and bouncing where she sat in Caden’s lap. Caden began to fond over her.

“We’re getting married!” Sherrie announced when everyone became silent. Suddenly, hoots and hollers filled the nighttime sky, the Christmas lights on Lindsey’s van twinkling.

“Congratulations!” Amelia cheered quietly, as Ariana stood to give Sherrie a hug. Casey fist bumped Caden, a bit confused on what exactly was going on. Oh, Casey.

As the group congratulated the couple, Louis turned to look at Harry. It was time.

“We also have an announcement,” Harry boomed into the air. Everyone became silent again. Louis felt himself shake, not from the cold, but from the nervousness.

“We’re … we’re dating,” Louis stumbled the words out of his mouth. He had realized then that he had never said it aloud, that they were together; it was more of an unspoken thing.

“Duh,” Casey groaned before falling back asleep on the sand.

“I already knew,” Ralph winked, “It’s cool with me, guys.”

“Happy for you both,” Lindsey looked like she might cry as she pulled her shirt up more over her cleavage.

“Oh, young love everywhere!” Sherrie ran over to them, collapsing on top of them in a pile of giggles. Amelia helped Sherrie up while Ariana wished them a small congratulations.

“More like old love,” Ralph joked, “Louis’ getting older by the second.”

Although Louis laughed, it concerned him a bit. He would be 29 next year. At that point, many of his old high school friends would be well on their way with a third child. Married, with a real home to call their own.

Harry placed a comforting hand on Louis’ thigh, “Thank you everyone, we appreciate the kindness.”

“Let’s play spin the bottle!” Sherrie suggested. Amelia slapped her forehead, “Sherrie, you’re engaged.”

“So? It doesn’t mean anything! It’s just a game,” Sherrie lowered her excited shoulders, cuddling into Caden. Caden laughed, kissing her hair. Louis rested his hands on Harry’s thighs, which were placed on either side of him.

“Why not truth or dare?”

“Yes!” Amelia cheered, “I’ll go first.”

Casey lit a blunt and began to pass it around the circle, Lindsey declining, “I want to stay sober for this.”

“Lindsey, truth or dare?” Amelia asked.

“Truth,” Lindsey smiled as Casey yelled, “LAME.”

“Would you ever kiss a guy on the first date?” she asked. Louis rolled his eyes.

“No, never,” Lindsey crossed her arm, “My turn! Harry, truth or dare?”

“Truth,” Harry answered, afraid of what her dare would be. Once again, Casey yelled “LAME.”

“What’s your biggest turn on?”

The group became quiet. Louis knew the answer. It was when they would have sex, and if Louis kissed Harry just right, while whispering “petal” into his mouth, it would make him come almost instantly.

Of course, Harry didn’t answer with that, “I would say … tugging at my hair.”

The group began to “ooh” as Louis blushed. Technically, he didn’t completely lie. Lindsey winked at Louis, who rolled his eyes once again.

“Alright … Jean, truth or dare?”

“Truth,” Jean said as Casey groaned, “I thought this was truth or dare?”

“How many different drugs have you tried?” Harry asked, his voice giddy. Ralph covered his ears.

“Mmm, let’s see …” she began to count on her fingers as Amelia cracked up at the sight, “About 5 or 6.”

Louis tapped Ralph’s shoulder to let him know it was okay to uncover his ears. Ralph looked at him, “Thanks, bro.”

“Okay … Ariana, truth or dare?”

“Dare,” she said as Casey yelled, “FINALLY.”

“I dare you to kiss the van,” Jean giggled as Ari stood up, kissing the van overly dramatic. Ari shyly took a seat back down on the ground next to Amelia as everyone cheered. Lindsey had a beer in her hand—Harry swore she heard she wanted to be sober during the game?

As Louis took a hit of the blunt and passed it to Ralph, Ari asked Louis, “Truth or dare?”

“Dare,” Louis smirked as the group went “Ooo.”

“Kiss Harry.”

Louis turned to Harry, looking at him. He needed to make sure it was okay with him before he went showing off his skills. Harry smiled at him, placing both hands on Louis’ face, kissing him lightly on the lips. Ralph cackled as Casey cheered, and Sherrie swore Lindsey’s eyes filled with tears.

“Alright, you pervs. Let’s see … Amelia. Truth or dare?”

“Dare.”

“Kiss Casey.”

The group made an even louder “Oooh!” than before, as Amelia politely placed a kiss on Casey’s cheek, who grinned with all his teeth shining bright.

“I don’t kiss on the first date,” she winked at Lindsey.

…

At midnight, Harry and Louis made it back to the van. When they removed their jackets and shoes, getting ready for bed, Louis pushed Harry against the van’s wall, kissing him with the passion of a thousand suns and stars.

“Woah, baby, what’s up?”

“I love you, Harry,” Louis whispered, his eyes shining from his high going away, “Everything about you, I love.”

“You’re so handsome,” Harry ran his fingers down Louis’ face, down to the end of his shirt, lifting it up off him. Louis helped Harry do the same.

In a matter of minutes, they were nude and laying in bed together. Harry was on top of Louis, having him already prepped and ready to go. Louis raised his legs up over Harry’s shoulders. Harry leaned down, nuzzling his tiny nose with his own. Louis giggled, he fucking _giggled_ , at the show of affection.

With the heater blazing, Harry pressed into Louis, who let out an “ahh” as he did so. Louis tugged Harry down by his hair, as Harry wrapped his arms around his tiny waist. Louis laughed when Harry sucked at one of his nipples, “Ah! That’s weird, don’t do that.”

“I like – uh, I like the way you look when I do,” Harry grunted as he pushed into Louis once more. Louis dragged his nails down Harry’s spine, chuckling as Harry began to pound roughly into him. He was in pure ecstasy; his love for Harry only grew with every push, every moan that escaped the curly boy’s lips.

“What’s so funny, baby?” Harry breathed into Louis’ neck. He tried to not be offended.

“I’m having—ah! I’m having fun,” Louis was still slightly high. He pulled Harry’s face to his, kissing him deeply, so in love with him and hos scent and their sex.

“Petal,” Louis spoke onto his lover’s lips, and Harry pounded vigorously into Louis, shaking the van, the clanging of the Christmas lights hitting the yellow metal outside. Harry came inside a shaking Louis, their breaths heavy.

Louis still hadn’t came, so Harry whispered in his ear sensually, “Fuck my mouth.”

Louis shuddered at the idea of feeling his cock inside Harry’s warm, wet mouth. He could’ve come then and there.

Harry and him switched places; Louis straddled Harry’s torso as his head rested against the headboard.

Louis slowly put himself into Harry’s open mouth, his lips wrapping around his bluish cock as soon as he was fully in. Louis started gradually, before going faster and faster.

“Ah, fuck, you feel so—so good,” Louis moaned loudly, gripping the headboard in front of him as he looked at Harry, watching him with wide eyes.

At one point, Harry gagged, and before Louis could stop to make sure he was okay, Harry slapped his ass, cupping it and pushing him back in.

In a matter of minutes, Louis came into Harry’s mouth, who swallowed the substance skillfully. He was used to Louis coming in his mouth a lot.

After they cleaned up, they cuddled into bed, holding each other, facing one another. Louis nuzzled his face into Harry’s neck, about to fall asleep.

“Wait!” Louis abruptly shot out of bed, leaning over and grabbing Harry’s present from underneath the bed. Harry swiftly did the same, picking up a simple cubed present.

Harry opened his present first; it was a vinyl, “Madman Across the Water” by Elton John.

“I love it!” Harry threw himself on top of Louis into a hug, kissing him all over his face as Louis laughed ridiculously, holding Harry’s waist.

“Okay, your turn,” Harry handed Louis the box. He unwrapped it carefully, trying to save the glittery wrapping paper. He managed to unwrap the box without a single tear in the paper.

The gift was a brand-new 1976 Polaroid Land Camera 1000 SE, complete with blank photo paper to use. Louis held the camera to his chest, closing his eyes.

Louis had eyed the exact one in Times Square months ago. Harry remembered.

He remembered something so small, so miniscule in Louis’ mind. His heart swelled.

“Thank you, petal,” Louis placed a gentle kiss to Harry’s mouth, “It’s exactly what I wanted.”

“I know,” Harry smirked as Louis quickly took a picture of him, catching him by surprise. When the photo appeared, it was blurry, but it was gorgeous to Louis.

They taped the photo to the wall, Louis writing “Christmas Sex” on the white space at the bottom. Harry rolled his eyes.

They fell asleep in each other’s arms that night listening to “Tiny Dancer”.


	11. eleven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> song: wish you were here by pink floyd

_February 1977_

6:46, the clock showed when Harry woke up. He had fell asleep early last night, so it only made sense he would wake up earlier than usual.

It wasn’t much earlier than he was used to; typically, Harry woke up around 7:40 every morning, hitting his drag while waiting for Louis to awaken. He would watch as Louis twist and turned in his sleep, eventually awakening from the lack of warmth on the other side of the bed. He would blink once, twice, calling out for Harry. At that point, Harry had finished his cigarette, and would climb into bed with his lover, pressing soft kisses all over his face to fully wake him up. Sometimes, Louis was in a lusty mood; other days, he was grumpy, ready for some coffee and demanded that Harry hold him close as they looked out the window. Louis would hold his cup of steaming light brown coffee and Harry would hang a joint loosely from his lips as they looked out to the sea. Louis would complain about not being able to surf from it being too cold outside, and Harry would kiss his ear, promising him the warmer days were ahead.

Louis had officially moved in; he ended the lease with his apartment and kept most of the furniture and other things that wouldn’t fit inside the van into storage. It worried him, to make such a huge move in his life to officially live with Harry. Of course, he had basically lived there already, but ending the lease to his first and only apartment was a whole other ordeal.

It made things real. A little too real.

Louis loved Harry; he wouldn’t mind spending the rest of his life with him if it meant he would always be held by his soulmate, his one true love. Louis couldn’t imagine a life without him. It’s why he stayed, even with all his doubts on their unforeseen future. He trusted Harry, believed when he would whisper in his ear while they made love, “One day, we’ll have so much more than this.”

And Harry worked on his promise. He was currently looking at lobbyist jobs, apartment openings, and a ring. All for Louis.

A ring, he held in his right pocket as he laid on the bed, his thoughts consuming him.

No, they couldn’t be legally married, but they would marry underneath stunning cherry blossom trees as petals swirled around them somewhere in Georgia (he had done some research and turns out, cherry blossom trees are most abundant there) with their families and friends watching as they said their vows to one another, Harry’s eyes welling up with tears without his control, Louis’ hand shaking as he placed the wedding band onto Harry’s finger, the officiator smiling brightly as he would say, “You may now kiss the groom,” in front of God and everybody.

Harry smirked, then smiled as he thought about where they could go for their honeymoon. They’d have to go somewhere a beach was present, so that Louis could surf the waves in his tight little swimsuit that accentuated his curves just right. Harry would wear something sexy; maybe red laced underwear that would barely hold in him as Louis would drool over him. They would wreck the bed, fuck under the stars as Harry would call him “husband” as Louis would yell his sensual groans into the night sky.

Harry leaned onto his side, facing Louis’ sleeping face. Hs lips were shut, humming an unfamiliar tune. When Harry kissed his lips, the humming stopped, and Louis blinked once, twice, before squinting his eyes at his petal, his rose without thorns, without flaws of any kind.

“Good morning,” Louis sighed, pulling Harry in, “Why are you wearing pants?”

Harry chuckled, “Not sure.” It would be that kind of morning, as Louis unbuttoned Harry’s bell bottoms, Harry’s hands placed against Louis’ soft shaven face.

Harry placed himself on top of Louis, his fingers knuckle deep inside a moaning, barely awaken Louis. He pumped his fingers, “Want another?”

“Yes, add another,” Louis groaned, sexually frustrated, his cock bobbing. Harry smirked.

“Beg for it, baby—”

“Please, another, lover, add another,” Louis grumbled, gripping the sheets when Harry obliged, Louis gasping at the addition of another digit inside him, his chest rising and falling. He was high on sex, ready for Harry’s fullness to be inside.

“Already? Are you—”

“Yes!” Louis yelled, “Come in me.”

Harry’s eyes drooped in lust and love as he inserted himself fully, slow at first before pounding into him, the van shaking with his rhythm. He immediately leaned to wrap his arms around Louis, Louis cupping Harry’s ass.

“Feel so good,” Harry breathed, feeling Louis’ legs grip themselves around his shoulders as he came inside him, Louis shivering at the feeling of the liquid oozing inside him, the pleasure overtaking him as Harry quickly moved his mouth around Louis’ cock. He came also instantly, Harry swallowing him up with ease and skill. He made eye contact as he licked up Louis’ shaft, his tongue fully out and grazing Louis’ tip.

It was quick, but it was enough for them.

“So good, so good,” Louis huffed, his chest moving rapidly as the high came down. He inhaled deeply, turning his head, a smile proud on his face.

Harry loved satisfying his lover, loved making him come simply because Harry did his job well. It satisfied him enough. He would have blue balls for the rest of his days if it meant he could see Louis’ face post-sex.

Harry climbed on top of Louis, laying against his sweaty body as he whispered in his ear, ever so softly, “Marry me.”

Louis froze. He was certainly awake now.

“What?” Louis’ lips were parted, his hair a mess against the pillow. Harry raised himself over Louis, resting on his elbows, his hair hanging in front of his face, “Marry me, baby.”

Louis began to shake, “I …”

Harry noticed his hesitation, a frown gradually forming on his face, “Babe?”

“I …” Louis slid from under Harry, wiping the sweat off his brow as he raced over to the dresser, pulling out some white briefs. Harry stumbled off the bed, grabbing the ring box from his pants with shaking hands.

“Louis,” Harry pleaded as Louis shoved some pants on, swiftly throwing on a band tee, “Louis, look at me.”

Louis obliged, lifting his face to look at him. Harry had tears in his eyes as he opened the red velvet box, a shiny, simple silver band sitting in the white material inside. Louis couldn’t see it, but the word “petal” was engraved on the inside of the ring, away from any peering eyes.

Louis tried to peer his eyes away, he tried, but he was stuck on the box. The beautiful, tiny box in Harry’s shaking hands.

“I love you,” Louis breathed, “But I can’t.”

“Lou, wait,” Harry fell onto his bottom as he watched his boyfriend run out the door, slipping on his Adidas on his way out.

Harry attempted to control his breathing when the door slammed behind Louis. He screwed his eyes shut, the box falling from his cupped hands, the ring still intact tightly inside. Harry fell to his side, finally opening his eyes. He covered his mouth as he began to sob, his body shaking violently.

. . .

“You said no?” Ralph asked as Louis inhaled a cigarette, tight against his lips. Ralph was surprised, to say the least.

“I had to,” Louis felt a tear fall from his eye, quickly wiping it away, “I didn’t want to.”

“Is it over, then?”

“No,” Louis sighed, puffing on the cigarette again as he sat on the sofa in Ralph and Jean’s apartment, “I won’t end it.”

“Lou … you have to talk to him,” Ralph frowned, taking a sip of his water, “You can’t leave him hanging.”

“I won’t … I just … need a moment,” Louis placed the dead cigarette in the ashtray, his hands vibrating.

Louis didn’t want to say no. He loved Harry, more than life itself, but … how could they possibly marry? How could they start a family in a political climate as the one they currently lived in? Louis didn’t want to wait, but if he had to, he would. He would wait for forever … even then, he doubted that statement. Could he wait?

A loud bang on the door awakened Louis from his thoughts. He watched as Ralph walked over to the door, “Probably my Roger Taylor lookalike of a landlord demanding I pay rent a day early.”

When he opened the door, none other than Lindsey Allen barged through the barely filled apartment, her eyes red, “You!”

Louis swallowed, “Hi?”

“Don’t “hi” me, you little shit,” Lindsey growled, “How the fuck are you so relaxed, so calm right now?”

“How did you find my apartment?” Ralph questioned as Lindsey vibrated with anger.

“Lindsey, wait—”

“Harry is at the van, a fucking mess because of you. He’s a blubbering baboon at this moment, calling out for you, barely talking to me or Amelia. How could you hurt him like that?”

It killed Louis to hear Harry’s condition. He could fall and die at this moment.

“I didn’t mean to,” Louis stood, “I swear to God—”

“Don’t swear to God or anyone unless you mean it, and I know you don’t,” Lindsey was enraged, “How could you say no to him? You’re the love of his life, all he ever wants is to spend the rest of his days with you. How could you say no to him, the one who takes care of your shit, the one who—”

“You don’t know shit, Linds, you have no idea,” Louis’ voice cracked, “I love him. You don’t know my reasons for saying no, so don’t act like you do.”

“What I _do_ know is that he would do anything to keep you. He wants a life with you. Why don’t you want a life with him?” Lindsey questioned, incredulous.

“I do! I do want it, I want it all,” Louis sobbed, shaking harder, “I want his warmth and love and I want a home to call our own and kids and a fucking dog maybe! But how can any of that happen when I can’t legally marry my soulmate because some old white guys think it’s sinful, it’s an abomination, it’s sick. It’s not possible.”

“It can be,” Lindsey began to sympathize, “With time, Louis. You have to be patient—”

“I don’t wanna be fucking patient! I want him, all of him, for eternity. I want a family with him, I want it soon, I want it so bad, but it can’t happen, it won’t happen.”

“Not with that attitude it won’t,” Ralph tried to joke. Lindsey and Louis glared at him, “I’ll just … be in the kitchen.”

“We’ve grown up with change. We’ve lived to see the _world_ change. How can you say yours won’t when it has for millions of people?” Lindsey tried.

“And how long did that take?”

…

When Louis came back, it was 5:46 PM and Harry was under the covers, holding the ring tightly in his hands.

“H,” Louis whispered as he gently closed the door, “Petal, I’m here.”

“Okay,” Harry mumbled, tucking the sheets underneath him tighter. He was desperate for Louis’ skin, his warmth on his body. He couldn’t have it.

“I love you,” Louis started. He paused when Harry pushed the sheets off him. He was still in the nude. He hadn’t left the bed since Louis left 11 hours earlier, since Lindsey left in a rush to Ralph’s apartment.

Louis sat on the edge of the bed, placing his hand beside him, “I’m sorry I said no.”

“Why?” Harry’s eyes were rimmed red, his cheeks stained.

“I … I’m impatient, Harry. I want change, I want it now. I want to marry you, _legally_. I want to have children with you, _legally_. I want you in my life, forever, you know that, right?” Louis turned his body to Harry. He kicked his shoes off, unbuttoning his pants.

“You have doubts,” Harry deadpanned, “Even though I’ve told you a thousand times, change is coming. It’s in the air, it’s on everyone’s minds.”

“I don’t want to wait until I’m 50 to marry you, to start a life,” Louis was exasperated, “I want it now.”

“You don’t think I want it now too?” Harry was pissed, “Of course I do. I want it more than anything, but … we can still start with the little things.”

“Like what?”

“Like moving in together, as you already have,” Harry sat up, “By marrying you in front of God and everyone. It’s not legal in court, sure, but who needs a court’s approval when you’ve got God shining down on you?”

Louis thought about it while the silence overlapped the two.

“You think God’s shining down on us? With love?”

“I do,” Harry couldn’t help but smile as he sat up, holding the small ring in his warm hands, “Why else would he make the prostate where it is?”

Louis couldn’t help but laugh wet, wiping tears off his face. He sat on the bed, crisscrossed in front of his lover. He picked up the ring from Harry’s palm. He slipped it on slowly, the fit almost perfect.

“Look at the engraving on it.”

Louis slipped it back off with ease, looking at the engraved word, “petal”. Louis’ eyes welled up with tears. He swiftly pulled Harry into a kiss while putting the ring back on.

“I’m not much of a ring guy,” Louis whispered onto Harry’s lips. Harry grinned, “You could be.”

…

Louis stared at the ring on his hand as he smoked a cigarette. A glass of water sat on the tiny dining table next to the window. Harry was asleep; the time 1:26 AM. Louis couldn’t sleep, his thoughts inescapable from his mind.

As Louis cried, he tapped the cigarette ash into the water. With his lips shaking, he brought the water to his lips, chugging the water with struggle, tears streaming into his mouth.


	12. twelve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> song: killer queen by queen

Harry screamed as he bit his tongue. He was too dazed on his acid trip to figure out he hadn’t put a chip in his mouth yet before he bit down.

“Ah shit, there’s blood on my tongue,” Harry slurred, sticking his tongue out of his mouth. The red liquid oozed off his tongue, the warm blood soothing the lack of touch from Louis.

He wanted Louis, wanted him so bad but Louis had barely looked at him since their “engagement”, one Harry may have accidentally forced onto him. Louis was distressed that afternoon, so he decided they should take some acid to ease their nerves.

Louis turned to his fiancé, his eyes hooded, a hard-on showing through his sweats. As Harry became cross-eyed staring at his tongue, Louis shimmied up to him, opening his mouth and wrapping his lips around the tongue, sucking sensually.

They parted mouths, “Kiss me.”

Harry immediately placed his bloody mouth to Louis’, a sloppy, determined kiss to fix things.

To fix anything.

To prove to Louis Harry was worth the wait.


	13. thriteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> song: love of my life by queen

“I’m holding you down,” Louis had said the next morning, solemn on his face. Harry began to shake, knowing what was coming.

“No, baby, you’re not,” Harry breathed. There was silence as Louis got out of bed. It would be the last time they shared a bed.

He began to pull his things out of the dresser, stuffing a suitcase that was sitting underneath the feather bed. Harry began to cry, his sobs emitting throughout the room, his voice shaky and broken.

Louis was finally leaving him. Harry had doubts that he would stay forever, but he begged and prayed to God that every kiss, every time they made love, every time Harry would hold Louis so tight he could barely breathe, that Louis would see the wait for the world to change was worth it.

“I have to … I have to go,” Louis held his breath, tears dripping off his eyelashes and onto the clothing he placed in the suitcase, as slow as he could. He never wanted to leave.

Harry was more erratic in his tone, “Please don’t leave me, don’t fucking leave me baby. I’ll hold you tight, I’ll protect you—”

“You can’t protect me from people like the bikers, from the law, from politics, no matter how hard you try,” Louis bit his lip, trying not to sob, “You promised to hold me, to never let go, and you never did—”

“Don’t let go of this,” Harry jumped from the bed, leaning down to Louis. Louis couldn’t look at him, “I’ll continue to hold you, to love you, please stay.”

“Harry, you know I can’t,” Louis finally allowed himself to cry, a loud, heartbreaking sob escaping his lips, “I can’t do this anymore. I’m not brave, I’m not patient like you.”

Still not looking at him, Louis stood and grabbed some miscellaneous things from around the van: his polaroid and some pictures taped around the room of each other or just Harry, his favorite coffee cup, and a sweater of Harry’s. The rest of his things were in storage.

Louis stared at one of the stars painted on the wall. He slowly pressed his palm on top of it, feeling it’s light go out. It was over.

Harry was splayed on the bed, his chest rising and lowering vigorously, his sobs louder than they’ve ever been. He stared at the ceiling as Louis stared at the stars around his hand, watching their light die within.

“Please come here,” Harry begged, holding himself in the fetal position. Stupidly, Harry still had hope that he could convince a stubborn Louis to stay.

“I won’t,” Louis felt agony pound in his chest. Harry sniffed, “Please.”

“No.”

Harry sobbed once more, his eyes stinging, his heart no longer beating. He felt like he was going to die as he tried to breathe. Louis watched.

Louis looked at his lover’s light die, like the stars. His hope escaped from him as every tear dripped down his chin, his knees pressed to his chest. Louis’ swelled heart deflated as his eyes became a normal plain blue.

Louis dropped his bags for a moment. He reached at the ring on his finger, about to pull it off when a destroyed Harry whimpered, “Keep it.”

“It’s yours,” Louis parted his lips, still staring at the ring, “I don’t need it.”

“Hold on to it, for me. There’s a reason you have my sweater on; you won’t ever, _fully_ let me go,” Harry sat up, only in his boxers. Louis kept the ring on.

He set his bags down, wiping his face as he walked over to the bed. He finally met Harry’s eyes. The love in his eyes was still there. Of course it was. It only made Louis’ heart scream at him, “What the fuck are you doing?!”

Louis’ mind dominated his soul.

He crawled onto the bed, laying his head onto Harry’s lap, staring up at him, his lips parting slightly as he leaned his head back to look at Harry’s beautiful face. He was stunning even in this moment, still angelic, still so handsome.

Harry was frozen as he looked into Louis’ ocean eyes. He watched as Louis dragged his fingers against his legs and up to Harry’s face.

“Let me hold you, one last time,” Harry sniffed, his voice breaking. Louis only nodded as Harry positioned them properly, Harry holding Louis by the waist as they faced each other. Louis had his arms around Harry’s neck.

“I love you, petal,” Louis cried, the lump in his throat growing, his lips quivering when Harry placed his lips onto his mouth. His lips tasted like tears.

Their kiss was just as familiar, just as skilled as it had always been. Louis ached for his touch, for his pleasure, for his warmth to stay eternally.

It wouldn’t happen.

“Never let me go, in here,” Louis pressed his vibrating palm to Harry’s chest, covered in sweat and tears.

“I promised you, a while ago, I would never let you go,” Harry quivered, “I plan to keep that promise.”

“Good,” Louis gave him a final kiss, gripping at the hair behind Harry’s head. He was desperate for that last bit of passion, lust, whatever the hell it was. He needed it, he couldn’t live without it.

And yet, he was about to.

Louis sat up, putting on his combat boots, keys in hand. He turned to look at Harry, who was an absolute mess as he had his arms sticking out, Louis’ body missing from the puzzle.

“You’ve broken my heart,” Harry muttered, holding onto his chest. Louis turned his face away, biting his lip so hard he swore he tasted blood.

Louis left the door open when he left the van, packing his things into the trunk. Before he stepped into the front seat, he noticed Harry was standing at the entrance of the pretty, nostalgic yellow van.

“Before you go,” his cheeks were red like a severe sunburn, “Was there anything I could have done?”

“No, darling, you were perfect.”

As Louis drove away, Harry walked out onto the beach, freezing from the lack of clothing, collapsing into the sand, gripping it between his fingers, feeling it collect in his hair.


	14. epilogue

_September 1983_

That Friday afternoon after school, Louis’ daughter Elaine bounced up and down in front of her father, begging him to let her go see her new friend at her house. Louis obliged, anything for his little girl.

Her red, curly pig tails jumped as she cheered, running up to him and barreling him in a tight hug around his hips, “Thank you daddy!”

“Of course, my precious girl,” Louis bent his knee to kiss the top of her head, his eyes full of love.

“Is mommy taking me?”

“I’m gonna have to darling, mommy’s with your new baby brother at the doctor’s,” Louis explained as he picked Elaine up from the ground, “Did your friend give you the address to their home?”

“Yeah, and her mommy’s number!”

“Oh, very good then, I’ll give their mommy a call before we go,” Louis set his angel down before giving her a raspberry on her cheek, her shrills of laughter filling the living room, “Why don’t you go set your bag down in your room?”

“Okay daddy,” the five-year old ran as fast as her tiny legs could go, running up the steps of the steep stairs as her Strawberry Shortcake backpack bounced off her back. Louis made a fond face as he watched her go, her tiny Mary Jane shoes clapping against the wooden stairs.

Louis walked to the tan wall phone, attempting to read his daughter’s scrawled handwriting. Like father, like daughter, he supposed.

As Louis heard the phone dial up and finally, familiar voice answered the phone, “Hello?”

“Hi, is this …” Louis squinted at Elaine’s penmanship, “Jackie’s mom?”

“It is, who am I speaking to?”

“This is Louis, Elaine’s dad. Your daughter and mine met at school. She was hoping to come over today.”

Louis felt the phone become muffled before the voice came back, “Louis? This is Lindsey, Lindsey from a few years back!”

“Lindsey Allen, no way!” Louis laughed, “How are you Linds?”

“I’m great, Louis. How are you, love?” Lindsey sounded older, more mature; 6 years will do that to someone.

“I’m doing great, thank you … how’s life been for you?”

“Well, I’ve got the life I wished for, being a stay-at-home mom while … the husband works. I stay with Jacqueline all day—well, until school started,” Lindsey chuckled, “She was so excited to go.”

“Can’t relate, Elaine was in tears when I dropped her off the first day,” Louis smiled at the memory, “Had her mom sobbing in front of everyone from it. What a mess.”

“What a mess indeed,” Lindsey held the phone in her hands lovingly, “It’s so good to hear your voice. It’s been forever. We should hang out when you’re not busy.”

“Of course, any time after 5 on weekdays,” Louis heard Elaine’s energetic steps, “So will you be home?”

“No, but … my husband will be,” Lindsey hesitated, “But I should be back later, if you stay long enough.”

“I’ll try,” Louis promised, “If your husband doesn’t mind.”

“Oh, trust me, he won’t.”

…

Louis pulled up to the massive white-painted brick home in Golden Valley. “What a pretentious name,” Louis had muttered as he drove through the gate.

“What does pretentuss mean?” Elaine had asked, Louis chuckling.

He parked the black 1979 Chevy Impala in the driveway behind a fancy silver Jaguar, turning off the car. He shoved the keys into his pocket while opening the back door. Elaine had already taken her car seat apart, jumping out the car and zoomed to the massive front doors. Louis laughed, “Wait for me, darling!”

Clearly, Elaine was ecstatic to see Jackie.

A figure opened the door, Elaine squealing and pulling a little black-haired girl into a hug, “Elaine, you made it!”

“Daddy said yes after all! He says no to almost everything,” Elaine complained, “It’s sooo annoying sometimes.”

“Same,” Jackie nodded genuinely. Louis stumbled up to the door towards Jackie’s dad, “Sorry, she can get so excited sometimes—”

Harry stared at Louis, his lips parted in bewilderment. Louis held his breath— _Harry_.

Elaine and Jackie stared at their dads, confusion present on their faces.

“My dad’s kinda weird, just ignore him,” Jackie whispered loudly as she pulled Elaine inside, “Let me show you my room! I have a princess bed!”

As Elaine freaked out over the fact that she had a pink princess bed, Harry let go of the door handle, his knuckles white.

“Louis,” Harry breathed, his lips shaking, “Hi.”

“Hi, petal,” the name hadn’t left his mouth in a long time. Harry shuddered at the name. No. no. no.

“Don’t,” Harry turned his head, “Please.”

“I can leave, if you’d like, I could pick up Elaine later—”

“No, no,” Harry tried to regain his voice, “Stay.”

Louis wiped his sweaty palms against his jeans. Harry had aged only slightly; 32 wasn’t as old as Louis once thought. He wished he were 32 instead of 34, almost 35. He felt like life was moving as fast as a rocket shooting into space, among the stars.

Stars is what Harry saw in Louis’ eyes. The little nail polish-painted stars inside his old yellow Volkswagen van. There, in his dark blue eyes, all he saw were the stars. He could hear Louis humming in his sleep, see Louis’ young laugh, hear the moans he would make when--.

“Should we go inside?” Louis broke the silence. Harry bit his lip, “Yeah, sure, come on in.”

The inside of the home was beautiful. There was an ornate chandelier hung just above the door, and a stunning living room just ahead. But Louis wasn’t paying attention, his mind was on one thing—Harry, Harry, Harry.

They made their way to Harry and Lindsey’s plush room, a huge California king sitting in the middle. Harry sat in a chair near the window, his hands gripping the chairs.

“I had no idea you and Lindsey…”

“A year after,” Harry explained, his voice hoarse, “We accidentally had Jackie. Lindsey wanted to get married. So did I.”

Louis nodded, uncomfortably sitting on the edge of the dark red sheets, “How’s that been?”

“It’s been fine,” Harry stuttered, “I’m surprised to see you. Thought I’d … never see you again.”

“You too,” Louis smiled to himself, “It’s bittersweet.”

“You could say that,” Harry laughed, a genuine laugh, “Elaine’s beautiful.”

“Thank you, so is Jackie. That’s a cute name.”

“It was my idea,” Harry smiled, “Jacqueline. After my mother.”

“That’s lovely,” Louis complimented him, “Elaine is named after my mother too.”

“Still alike, I see,” Harry noted. Louis nodded, pulling a pipe from his pocket. Harry’s eyes went wide, “Not in here. Lindsey will smell it. She’s stopped smoking—”

“Fuck Lindsey,” Louis lit the pipe, puffing it slowly, “You got me hooked.”

Harry’s face was solemn—he watched as Louis’ lips wrapped around the glass pipe. It was green. It matched Harry’s eyes.

He noticed Louis wore two rings on his left hand. One of them was Harry’s engagement ring. He felt his eyes well with tears, one dropping down to his parted lips. He quickly wiped it away before Louis could notice it. Louis passed him the pipe, Harry taking it graciously.

“You still wear it,” Harry breathed. Louis paused, knowing exactly what he was talking about.

“Yeah, and look,” Louis removed the rings, showing a small “’76” tattooed on his finger. Harry felt like he was going to die.

“Does your wife know?”

“Yeah, but she doesn’t know what it means …” Louis paused, “Who it’s for.”

Harry inhaled deeply, standing to open the window. He saw Elaine and Jackie playing on the swing set down below. He took another hit of the pipe.

Louis stood, standing on the other side of the window, his right hand resting on the windowsill, watching his daughter play. Harry yearned to touch his hand, to hold his hand.

“What do you do now?” Harry tried to get his mind of Louis and stop staring at his ass. Louis shrugged, “I’m a journalist. You?”

“Lobbyist,” Harry answered quickly, “I enjoy it. I still go to protests. I bring Jackie along, although Lindsey hates it. I don’t care.”

“I’m sure she loves them,” Louis said. Harry nodded, “She does. Just like her dad.”

They were silent as Louis puffed on the pipe. Harry began to stare at Louis; he had some permanent crinkles at the edge of his eyes. 6 years.

There they stood, staring at each other, Louis’ heart swelling as Harry’s hands began to shake. He put them in his pocket to stop them. It only made his lips quiver.

“I never stopped loving you,” Louis stares into Harry’s eyes. Harry lets a tear fall.

“And I you,” Harry cried, wiping at his cheeks feverishly, “I never will.”

Louis wiped the tear from Harry’s cheek, “You have a beautiful life.”

“I’ll never stop wanting you,” Harry answered back, his lips parted as the sounds of Elaine and Jackie squealing came from outside.

Sometimes, you can’t have everything.

\---

_Bill Jones became the first gay man to adopt a child in 1968. In 2015, he expressed he was told not to say he was a gay man during the adoption process. New York became the first state to not reject adoption simply because a couple was homosexual a decade later. In 1979, a gay couple from California became the first gay couple to adopt a child. It wasn't until 2010 that all 50 states allowed homosexual couples to adopt children. On June 26, 2015, the US Supreme Court ruled homosexual marriage legal. Harry and Louis would have been legally married at 65 and 67 years old, if only Louis had waited._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who gave this fic a chance. This is the first fic I've ever finished, and she's my little baby. I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I loved writing it. Feel free to follow me on tumblr (xphoideprocess) and twitter (1DYSL). Love you all. Sorry for the tears, if any.


	15. extra scene pt. 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for 630 reads !! :o so here's some smut. also i missed writing this story so here ya go :)

_March 1977_

Harry decided March 14th would be a national holiday if he ever became president. An unlikely trope, but one he had thought of as he laid beside his admirer, who was humming incoherently in his slumber as he always did. He leaned down to Louis’ face, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to his stubbled cheek.

“Happy birthday, sunshine,” Harry cooed, kissing his parted mouth as he slept. Louis did not wake up easily; it took a few tries to wake him whenever he was deep in sleep. Harry didn’t mind it one bit. He loved the routine of waking him up whenever he didn’t wake up on his own.

He admired Louis’ eyelashes fanned against his cheekbones, how luscious they were. He had never seen such pretty eyelashes. He stuck his pointer finger out, lightly grazing where the lashes laid. They were so soft, so light. Louis stirred in his sleep, flopping lazily onto his back, his chest slowly moving up and down. Harry grabbed Louis’ hand, holding his palm against his face, his eyes closed as he took in the warmth.

“Darling,” Harry rubbed the backside of his fingers against Louis’ face once again, “Wake up, please.”

“No,” Louis mumbled, shifting his body against Harry’s, “My birthday.”

“Happy birthday,” Harry repeated, keeping Louis’ hand on his face. He moved his head to kiss Louis’ palm. Louis pulled at Harry’s waist, keeping him close.

Harry wrapped his arms around Louis, hoisting him on top of himself. Louis splayed against Harry’s bare torso; his face tucked in the crook of his lover’s neck. He attempted to open his eyes, but he had been exhausted from the night before.

Last night, Louis and Harry stayed up playing board games and drinking beer. They hadn’t gotten incredibly drunk or anything, but the monopoly game had gotten intense, with Louis getting annoyed that he had lost (once again). Harry had decided, near the end of the game, that it was time for them to go to sleep. At 4 AM.

Louis finally opened his eyes, looking over at the bedside clock; 9:36 AM. Not too late, not too early.

“Good morning,” Louis spoke groggily, the vibrations of his voice tickling Harry’s neck. Harry moved his body to accompany Louis more, who sat up, straddling Harry’s lap.

Louis’ hair was a true mess, strands of light brown hair splayed in every direction possible. Harry reached up, fixing his hair as Louis made a fond face. He had indents from the sheets on his arms, and his eyes and face were a bit swollen. Clearly, he had slept well.

“Sleep well?”

“I did,” Louis was almost fully awake, “Comfy bed.” Louis bounced on Harry’s lap, who tried with everything in him to not grow a hard-on from the pressure on his groin, from the idea of Louis riding him senseless, from the idea of hearing Louis’ loud moans as his cock bounced onto Harry’s stomach. It wasn’t working. Louis smirked.

“What would you like to do today?” Harry attempted to change the subject as he held Louis’ bare waist in his grip. Louis leaned over, placing his hands-on Harry’s chest, sticking his ass out.

“You,” He whispered, connecting their lips slowly, tasting Harry’s skin as he traveled down to his chest with his lips, his nails scratching at his sides. Harry groaned, pushing his head back as his eyes closed. He most definitely had a hard-on now.

“All day?”

“All day,” Louis made his way back to Harry’s face, cupping it as he kissed him passionately, their lips smacking against each other. He rubbed his lower half against Harry, who began to breathe airily at the pleasure he felt emit throughout his entire body.

Harry moaned in Louis’ mouth, their lips barely touching as he did so. Louis moved down Harry’s body once more, making it down to his boxers. He gripped Harry’s shaft through the light material, moving up and down cautiously. Harry held Louis’ other hand, biting his lip.

“It’s your birthday, I should be—uh, I should be getting you off,” Harry exasperated, his breathing getting sharper as he got closer to finishing. In any other circumstance, he would be embarrassed of getting off from getting rubbed in his boxers. With Louis, it didn’t matter.

“I enjoy this immensely, if you can’t tell,” Louis moved frustratingly slow while removing Harry’s boxers, his cock popping out. It was straight up, the tip covered in pre-come, glistening in the sunlight that shone through the transparent blinds.

As Louis began to move his hand up and down his shaft, Harry felt like he would explode from the inside, “I’m gonna come.”

“Already? I’m just getting started, petal,” Louis removed contact from his cock, taking off his own boxers to reveal his hard on, dripping with pre-come, the shaft purple like a bruise. It was getting on the bed.

“I just cleaned the sheets,” Harry complained, his face pouting. Louis looked at him, blinking once, twice.

“Are you actually complaining right now?”

“No, no,” Harry’s eyes widened, “I’m not—”

“I’m about to ride you, give you what you want all the time you horny bastard, and you’re complaining about getting the sheets dirty?”

Harry’s breath hitched from Louis boldly proclaiming his plans, “Go ahead, baby.”

“Mm, I thought so,” Louis leaned down, placing his mouth on Harry’s shaft, engulfing the entirety of it into his mouth with ease. In a matter of seconds, Harry came in his mouth, his hands pulling at Louis’ hair, messing it up again. Louis spit the substance out in the trashcan next to the bed.

“Thank you,” Harry pulled Louis back up to him, Louis straddling him once again, kissing him passionately. Harry bit Louis’ lip sensually, opening his dark green eyes to stare at him.

Louis was stunning, so beautiful, so elegant yet rugged. He could stare at him for forever.

“I love you,” Harry whispered, moving his lips to Louis’ neck, sucking on the thin skin lightly. Louis breathed in deeply, “I love you, too.”

Harry looked back at Louis, his eyes hooded as he took in Louis’ naked body, “What did you say about … that one activity?”

Louis rolled his eyes, a playful smirk on his lips. He grabbed Harry’s hand, moving it to cup his ass, “Not yet.”

Harry groaned, sexually frustrated as Louis stuck his ass out slightly, still laying on top of Harry. He smushed his lips against his lover’s, his tongue grazing against Harry’s. The bed began to creak as they moved their bodies back and forth, Harry’s fingers playing at Louis’ entrance. Louis stuttered, “C’mon, d-don’t make me wait on my o-own birthday.”

Slowly, Harry inserted two fingers, a gasp escaping Louis as he breathed into Harry’s mouth. Harry began to pump his fingers, the pain and pleasure contorting Louis’ face, lips parted as he rested his forehead on Harry’s. Harry attached his lips to the side of Louis’ shaking mouth. He watched as Louis’ lips curled into a soft smile as he began to enjoy the sensation.

Louis let out a loud moan as Harry curled his fingers, adding a third one when Louis began to push back against his hand, the arch of his back growing. He opened his light blue eyes, staring at Harry as he moaned, “I’m ready.”

“You’re heavenly,” Harry repositioned himself, readying his cock as Louis adjusted where he sat on him. He raised himself on his knees, looking back behind himself as he lowered down onto Harry, emitting a sensual groan. Immediately, Harry pulled Louis downwards, wrapping his arms around his waist, never letting him go.

The position was Harry’s favorite. He loved to see Louis in a controlling position, watch as his long hair fell into his eyes as he leaned his head back in ecstasy when Harry wasn’t holding him down to his own chest. Seeing Louis be as comfortable and open as he was during sex was one of Harry’s most prized moments to share with him.

Louis placed his hands on either side of Harry’s face. His mouth was open, his breaths turning into moans as he looked at Harry’s eyes, which were dilated and lustful. Harry began to push up with his legs to meet Louis’ bouncing, making Louis let out boisterous, high-pitched yelps of satisfaction.

“So good, baby,” Harry released his grip on Louis, instead running his hands down Louis’ back and cupping his ass, feeling the muscles contract. He knew Louis was close; he started to get even louder than he usually is, and his movements became more erratic. Sometimes, he would yell obscenities or become more demanding. Harry loved it, lived for it.

“I’m so fucking close,” Louis yelled as he practically jumped on Harry. He threw his hands from his hair to Harry’s chest to his own throbbing dick, struggling to find a place to leave them. Harry took his free hand, resting it on his own waist. Louis gripped at the flesh, screwing his eyes shut.

“Touch me, anywhere, everywhere,” Louis began to huff. Harry replaced Louis’ hand with his own, pumping Louis’ dick with precision, a hard task since Louis began to bounce from different angles, trying to hit his sweet spot. Harry moved his other hand to cup Louis’ face gently, simply watching him, barely paying attention to how close Louis was to coming.

Harry loved Louis.

“Beautiful,” Harry cooed quietly as Louis opened his eyes, staring at Harry confused as sweat dripped from his face. Harry moved his four fingers behind Louis’ ear, his thumb grazing against his cheekbone.

Louis closed his eyes, screaming, “Fuck!” as he came, the substance spraying on Harry’s chest and stomach. Harry came soon after, only letting out a soft moan as he felt Louis clench around his member. Louis continued to bounce through the sex high, laughing lightly as his eyes were still closed, his head leaned back. Harry admired the muscles in his neck, how his skin stretched as Louis breathed heavily and quickly. He pressed both his hands onto Louis’ back, pulling him forward.

“So good,” Louis breathed, placing a swift kiss on Harry’s pink lips, “That was so fucking nice.”

“You seemed to enjoy yourself,” Harry helped Louis off from his lap. Harry grabbed a hand towel from the bedside table and wiped his torso off as Louis laid beside him, resting on his side. His hair was sticking out in all directions once again.

Harry began to fix his hair for him as Louis whispered, “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For letting me … be like that, with you,” Louis became shy.

“I love that you can open up during it all, express who you truly want to be,” Harry placed his hand on Louis’ cheek, “It makes everything more fun.”

“I hope so,” Louis looked away from Harry’s face, a read blush forming on his cheeks. Harry moved his head forward, kissing Louis oh so lovingly.

“Look at me,” Harry asked, Louis obliging, “Never be embarrassed baby. I love it, I always will. Clearly, you do too.”

Louis laughed, “I love you so fucking much.”

“I love you,” Harry kissed Louis once more, their movements slow. He opened his eyes, releasing their lips from the others.

“Happy birthday.” 


End file.
